Life After War
by ShigeSato
Summary: It's three years since the war. Hermione loves her career and her friends, but something about her ongoing relationship with Ron just isn't sitting right. When Draco reappears into her life after some secret meetings in their repeated seventh year, will his influence change her perspective on things? EWE, rated for adult themes and language.
1. Chapter 1

It had been three years since the war.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, the witches and wizards who had fought against Voldemort had banded together, weary and grief-stricken, to rebuild their shattered lives. The school had been repaired and restored (as far as was possible) and had been re-opened two years ago, headed by Minerva McGonagall, for those 7th year students who wished to return, and for those younger students who had not yet completed their studies. Most of the professors from the previous teaching staff had been willing to come back, and Hogwarts had once again returned to a lively, exciting place of learning.

It was not so everywhere, however. The corruption within the Ministry had taken a while to be rooted out, and there were still some rogue Death Eaters prowling the country, hidden and dangerous; the Aurors continued to search for them, but each day went by with no more news of arrests.

It had been last year, at the annual War Memorial Ball, celebrated every year on the day Voldemort had died, both in memory of those who had died fighting him and to toast the new future that had unfolded since his demise. The Death Eaters had somehow banded together and attacked the partygoers, desperate to destroy the famous Boy Who Lived and avenge their fallen leader. Their attempt had been unsuccessful, but the bold nature of such an aggressive assault had shocked everyone in attendance, and the rumours had begun to surface once again. They are rallying. He is going to return.

The Golden Trio had done what they could to alleviate these rumours - of course he died, I saw him. No, there's no way he could have survived. Yes, the Death Eaters are probably acting alone, and the Aurors will soon round them up. Don't worry. It's all over now.

Ten months following the attack, though, and with at least twenty Death Eaters still at large, the Ministry was in crisis. Should they host the Annual Ball again this year, even though they may be putting the invitees at risk? If they did not, would the public backlash and rumour-mongering from the media be enough to ruin the relative peace and prosperity they had been trying to hard to manufacture?

This was the crisis with which Hermione Granger was faced right now.

Following the war, she, Ron and Harry had returned to Hogwarts to finish their final year with Ginny after the rebuilding effort. After their NEWTs, Ron and Harry had been taken on by the Auror office, and Ginny had become a reserve for the Holyhead Harpies after being Gryffindor Team Captain in her final year. Hermione had opted to take a position within the Ministry, hoping to help remove the corrupt members of the system and return the organisation to a pre-Voldemort state of affairs.

All in all, things had been going quite well for her. She had had a fairly successful career so far, and despite only having two years' experience, her intelligence and capacity for learning and remembering, coupled with her intense work ethic, had promoted her quickly through the ranks to Chief Officer of Internal Affairs. This meant she was responsible for organising the committees which ran each department, answering only to the Board of Directors and Minister for Magic himself; she also supervised other Heads of Department and ensured the smooth running of events such as the Quidditch World Cup, Triwizard Tournament and the Annual War Memorial Ball.

Hence the problem she was currently dealing with.

She sat at her desk, hands running through her crazed brown curls, staring wildly at the ink bottle on the edge of the table and wondering how, how, she could possibly make this decision. She had two weeks before she would be called before the Minister to announce whether the Ball would be going ahead, and it was her decision, there could be no delegation or escalation. This was her job, and she had to do it.

Sighing, she grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and began to set out the 100th list of possibilities she had made that week:

If the Ball goes ahead:

- There will be a magnificent event

- The tradition of honouring the war casualties will be upheld

- The media coverage will reflect well on the Ministry

- There is a possibility of risking lives in a devastating Death Eater attack.

If the Ball does not go ahead:

- The media will start up the rumours of Voldemort again and accuse the Ministry of incompetence

- Society will become more apathetic towards the Ministry and risk degeneration

- The Death Eaters will hear, and know they have us scared.

On paper, it seemed obvious. Let the Ball go ahead. Install extra security measures - Portkeys, wards, Aurors on every corner - and hope that the rogues would not decide to attack. Or even better, hope that Harry and his team manage to round them up in the two months before the Ball goes ahead.

But could she justify risking the lives of over 500 people, just for the benefit of the Ministry's public image?

Sighing for what must have been the two hundredth time that day, she screwed up the parchment and threw it in the bin. Chances were she'd be writing another one tomorrow anyway, determined to analyze something, anything that she had missed, a way for this situation to resolve itself without herself and everyone else at the Ministry being thrown under the bus.

Glancing up at the clock, she realised it was 6pm already. She and Ron were supposed to be meeting Harry and Ginny at the Leaky Cauldron for drinks tonight; Ginny had returned from a Harpies tour of Romania recently and they hadn't had a chance to catch up. She gathered her possessions, stuffed them in her magically-enhanced bag and swept the desk for a last-minute check, before standing up and leaving the office for another day.

She Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron and headed inside. Since the restoration of Diagon Alley three years ago, the Cauldron had been bought out by Hannah Abbott and her family, and expanded into a family venue which had become a bustling restaurant and bar. She noticed Harry, Ron and Ginny sitting at a table on the other side of the room, and waved at them as she pushed her way over.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted her as she arrived.

"Hey guys! Hello Ginny, gosh, I haven't seen you in weeks!" Hermione replied, hugging the red-haired girl before sitting down next to Ron, who kissed her on the cheek and put his arm around her chair.

"I know, it's been mental," Ginny said, sounding exhausted. "We barely stopped training to sleep, and when we did, it was never in the same place two nights running. I'll be glad to get home and have a nice long lie in tomorrow."

Hermione laughed, the presence of her boyfriend and friends never failing to cheer her up. She would worry about her work problems tomorrow - for now, she wanted to enjoy the evening and relax.

None of them noticed a platinum-blond wizard skulking at the bar, watching them with a measured gaze.

Later that night, Harry and Ginny said goodbye and Apparated home; Ginny was eager to get to bed, and after three weeks without his girlfriend, Harry could probably say the same thing. Hermione and Ron were left at the table.

"So how was it today?" Ron asked, sipping his Butterbeer.

"Exhausting," she replied, "I can't figure out this Memorial Ball issue yet. It's driving me nuts. I don't suppose there's been any updates from the field?"

"None today," Ron said with a grimace. "They could be anywhere, as far as we know. Look, this job is obviously stressing you out too much. Why not quit?"

Hermione groaned. She had hoped not to have an argument tonight, but apparently, it was not to be.

"I like my job, Ron. I don't want to quit - this is just a problem I need to resolve like everything else."

Ron, though, would not let it go. "You'd be happier if you left. You'd be able to spend more time at home, instead of being stuck in an office all day."

Hermione knew she shouldn't have, but she took the bait. It had been a long day, she was tired and she wasn't in the mood for one of Ron's preachy speeches about marriage and children.

"Some women, Ronald, don't want to stay at home all day, cleaning and cooking and making children. I want to have a career of my own, and all that will just have to wait."

Ron's ears were turning red. "For how long? Mum had Bill when she was your age. You can't put it off forever, it's the way things are."

"Well, it's not the way things will be for me, Ronald, and if you can't accept that then don't be a part of it. I will have a family when I'm good and ready, and not a minute before, and no amount of nagging from you is going to change that." She downed the rest of her Firewhiskey and stood up.

"Are you leaving?" he blustered.

"We're done here, aren't we?" she replied sweetly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

She turned abruptly and left him sitting at the table, nonplussed with Butterbeer still in hand. She hated fighting with him, but more and more recently he had been trying to coerce her into settling down, marrying him and popping out twelve red-headed children. She didn't want that, though, not yet - she had never wanted that, and if he couldn't understand it then she wasn't going to keep explaining it. He could either let her live her life, and wait until she was ready, or he could find someone else who was willing to give him what he wanted. At this point, she really was too tired of him to care.

Once she Apparated home to her flat, she put her things down on the kitchen counter and flicked the lights on. Crookshanks was curled on the couch, oblivious to the world, snoring as only a part-Kneazle could. She smiled and stroked his furry back, and he wiggled in his sleep, his tail and whiskers twitching like crazy.

Hermione changed into her tracksuit trousers and an old jumper, and started to make herself a cup of tea. She needed it after the day she'd had. Determined not to let the Ball issue enter her mind again, she sat down on the sofa next to Crookshanks, cradling her mug, and opened the book she was currently reading, resolved to get some peace and quiet.

Sadly, it was not to be. Within minutes of sitting down, her doorbell rang. She sighed, figuring it was Ron come to apologize, and ignored it. She really couldn't be bothered with any more of him tonight. The caller was insistent, though, and rang again, followed by a knock two minutes later. With an aggravated groan she got up, putting her book and mug on the table, and headed to the door to tell Ron where to go.

"Ronald, will you cut it out-" she began as she swung the door open, but stopped in her tracks when she saw not her red-headed boyfriend at the door, but a tall, blonde wizard, hair combed neatly back, black robes billowing to the floor and grey eyes watching her with a piercing gaze.

"Draco! What are you doing here?" she asked, flabbergasted. She hadn't seen him since they finished Hogwarts two years ago.

When the war trials had occurred, Harry and Hermione had spoken out for the Malfoy family as witnesses. Harry described how Narcissa had saved his life in the Forest, and how Draco had refused to kill Dumbledore and lowered his wand; how Lucius had been the stem of the Voldemort support within the Malfoy family, and Draco and Narcissa only unwilling participants. Hermione then testified about the day at the Manor, how he refused to identify them, and with shaking breaths, described her experience with Bellatrix, and how Draco had been shocked and horrified at the deeds of his aunt, and was certainly not capable of the evil actions of his father.

Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, but had escaped after being sentenced and had not been found - he was presumed to be one of the rogue Death Eaters roaming the country. Narcissa and Draco had been placed on house arrest for a year as a precaution, after which Draco was to return to Hogwarts and finish his education with a mandatory Muggle Studies NEWT.

Surprisingly, they had accepted their punishment with grace, and Draco had become altogether different since the trial. He had approached Harry on the first day back at school, thanked both he and Hermione for testifying for him, apologised for his behaviour towards them, and held his hand out for a truce. This time, Harry had taken it, determined to put old grudges behind hgim - after the horrors they had witnessed, it wasn't worth keeping old rivalries alive. There were bigger things in the world.

Although Malfoy had not been directly friendly to them after that, they had been civil in classes, and whenever they passed him in the corridors they would nod hello. Ron, being slightly less mature than the other two and still aggravated by Malfoy's previous remarks about his family, refused to acknowledge him in any way, which hindered the progress they were trying to make to keep unity alive. However, they managed well enough, and Hermione actually found him to be quite a pleasant person underneath.

Later on in the year, he had come to her in secret and begged her to help him with his Muggle Studies. Having only taken it for a year rather than the usual two, he was behind with his work and struggling to keep up; he felt that he might fail his exam, and as he proudly exclaimed to Hermione, "A Malfoy never fails an exam." Being that she was the only student in the school smarter than him, and a Muggle-born to boot, he had swallowed his pride and asked her for help.

She acquiesced and they arranged weekly meetings so she could review his work and go over the bits he didn't understand. Slowly but surely, a budding friendship formed between them as they found they had quite a lot in common; they both loved books and plays, and could sit for hours discussing various Muggle and wizarding literature. Draco was fascinated with the Muggle classics, which he had never read before his NEWT, and she was keen to introduce him to other texts she thought he might enjoy.

Neither of them mentioned these meetings in public, however, and Hermione was careful to keep it from Harry and Ron. Though Harry was tolerating Draco now, he may accidentally let it slip to Ron, and Ron would hit the roof that his girlfriend was "fraternizing with the enemy". So, they had continued to meet, and continued to connect, and continued to act as if nothing was happening to everyone else they knew.

After his NEWT (which he passed with flying colours), Malfoy had thanked her and told her he would never, ever disparage Muggles or Muggle-borns again. He had learned that everyone's blood was the same, and if she had weak magic then so did he. She smiled and surprised herself by hugging him, telling him that she accepted his apology, and to keep in touch after Hogwarts.

He hadn't.

And yet here he was, outside her door at 9pm on a Thursday, gazing at her with his grey eyes as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Sorry for calling on you so late," he began. Malfoys always remembered their manners. "I had something I wanted to talk about with you."

"No problem at all," she said, and found she actually meant it. As long as it wasn't Ron, she didn't mind having someone at her door. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Two sugars, thanks," he replied, looking around her flat. "This is a nice place, Hermione."

"Thanks," she responded whilst busying herself over his cup. "I got it a couple of years ago when I got my job at the Ministry. I needed a place in London, and I think this suits me."

"It certainly does," he agreed, and sat down beside Crookshanks on the couch where Hermione had been only moments before. "I see you still have your beast of a cat," he joked warmly, stroking Crookshanks's back. He had taken an instant liking to Crookshanks after he had first met him, and the cat had bonded with Draco straightaway. He opened one eye upon feeling a hand on his back, meowed sleepily and moved up closer to Draco, pushing his back against his leg.

"He's been missing you," Hermione responded with a smile, bringing his tea over and sitting down in the armchair at the end of the couch.

Draco only chuckled and sipped his tea, sitting back thoughtfully.

"So what's this about, Draco? What have you been doing the last two years?" Hermione asked.

"Not sure where to start, really," he said, looking down at Crookshanks with a small frown on his face. "After Hogwarts, I didn't know what to do with myself. I have the Malfoy fortune, of course, but since Father is missing, the business has somewhat collapsed, and I can't reinstate anything without Father, as he is still the sole owner of the company. There's no more money coming in, and I'm not sure what to do about it, at least until Father is caught and I can be named co-owner.

So I thought I would get a job, to support Mother. We have enough money for several lifetimes, of course, but she needs structure and routine, and having a man go out to work every day is a part of that. Initially I struggled, though, because of reputation and the war records."

Hermione nodded sadly. Draco really had had a tough break.

"Eventually, though, I managed to find an apprenticeship at a local Potions store, and I've been at that for a year now. I'm about to finish my apprenticeship and hopefully I'll be able to take over manufacturing and start making my own potions."

"You were always brilliant at Potions," Hermione mused. "Even after Snape stopped giving you free marks."

"They were not free marks," he said indignantly, though he was grinning. "They were a present from my godfather."

Hermione laughed and took another sip from her cup. "So you're a Potions apprentice, living at Malfoy Manor, earning a bit of money, you've still got the fortune and your mother is doing well. Sounds like it worked out okay for you in the end."

"Thanks to you and Potter," he said without missing a beat. "Without you two I would be nowhere. Especially you - I owe you a debt."

"Oh, please, Draco, it's nothing. I'm just glad you've managed to make something out of the chance you got given. It's good to see that people can put things behind them and move on," Hermione smiled.

"No, I owe you, and I've come here tonight to help you, the same way you helped me before," Draco said, a note of urgency in his voice. "I came to you for help when I needed it, and now, I can assist you too."

"How?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.

"I was in the Leaky Cauldron earlier," he confessed. "I saw you talking to Weasley about the problems you're having at work - about the Ball, and the possibility of another attack?"

"Yes..." Hermione said slowly.

"Two days ago, I got a letter from my father, asking me to help him coordinate an attack with the rest of the Death Eaters, for the glory of the Malfoy family and all that rubbish he used to spout. I kept the owl. You can trace it back to where they're hiding. You can catch them all," he said, looking her directly in the eye. "I came to you, because I know nobody else would trust that I hadn't been corresponding with him all this time. You know me - and you know I haven't."

She nodded without question. Of all the people who would willingly contact Lucius Malfoy, Arthur Weasley was higher on the list than Draco. "And you really think the owl will lead us to them?"

"It's waiting for a reply," Draco answered. "Father wants to know if I will help them - information on the whereabouts of the Ball and the security they will be installing. He will need that information and so wherever that owl goes, they will be."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, and threw her arms around him. "Thank you!"

"It's no problem," he responded somewhat awkwardly, patting her back. "Like I said, I owe you for helping me with my Muggle Studies NEWT."

"Just for once," she said, drawing back, "how about we don't make this tit for tat? You never owed me anything. You haven't repaid anything. I helped you because I wanted to, and now you're helping me because you're my friend, and you want to do what's right. Shall we leave it at that?"

Draco smiled back into her grinning face - not a smirk, but a real, genuine smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all. Quick author's note to say thanks to all the people who have already favourited or followed this story. It means a lot, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

**I don't own anything except the plot.**

It didn't take long. 24 hours after Draco had come to visit her, all twenty Death Eaters had been rounded up and were in custody awaiting sentencing. She made her presentation to the Minister two weeks later, in the presence of a beaming Board of Directors, and the Ball would be going ahead as planned. At Draco's behest, she had not revealed who her source was, despite the media and her boss's pressing requests so they could congratulate and honour them. She only said that it was someone she knew, and someone she trusted, and she was glad that he had come forward.

She did not hear from Draco again after that night, but in an effort to keep in touch with him, she sent him an invitation to the War Memorial Ball. She didn't think he would come - he was still shifty about the war, and didn't know many attendees - but she hoped he would, or that he would at least see her invitation as a desire to hear from him again.

The two months leading up to the event were hectic for Hermione and everyone in her department. It was the biggest event of the year, and everyone important would be there from across the country. It had to go perfectly, they could afford no mistakes, and although the Death Eaters had finally been cornered, many people attending still had political enemies, so one could not be too careful when it came to security measures. She barely saw anyone during the lead-up to the event, including a disgruntled Ron who constantly complained that she was 'barely a proper girlfriend anymore' - which, needless to say, only irritated her more. She didn't need it, not when she was so busy.

The day of the Ball eventually arrived, and with it the height of activity in the Ministry. Every department was in a flurry of bustling and running about with papers and memos, eager to finish for the day and get ready. Hermione dusted off all her work by 5pm and Apparated home, wanting to surprise Ron - after all, she hadn't been seeing much of him lately, and she thought they could have a couple of hours together before the Ball began. She got herself ready, having selected her outfit weeks beforehand in her typically organised fashion, and found herself knocking at the door of the Burrow at 7pm.

"Hermione, dear! Come in, come in!" a flustered Molly Weasley ushered her into the cluttered kitchen. "Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? George, DON'T BE SO LAZY!"

George looked up guiltily from the table, where he had been levitating a sandwich out of the fridge towards him. Under Molly's stern gaze, he got up and walked meekly over to take it from where it hung in midair.

"Honestly. Where was I? Oh, yes, Hermione! Would you like anything, dear?" Molly was already bustling over the other side of the kitchen.

"No, thank you Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine," she replied, trying to suppress a giggle as she exchanged a look with George. "Where's Ron?"

"Out in the yard, I think," Molly replied, "playing Quidditch." Her distaste at the idea of playing Quidditch when they were due at the Ball in two hours was evident.

"Thanks," she said with a smile and made her way out into the yard, carefully stepping round the mess made by the chickens - she was wearing her best shoes, after all. Immediately she saw three figures on broomsticks, flying around a set of makeshift goalposts at the end of the yard.

"Evening!" she shouted up at them, squinting into the setting sun.

Distant greetings issued back at her from the sky, and she smiled and watched them swoop down beside her. Ginny grabbed her in an arm-wrenching hug, and Harry waved, his ruffled and windswept hair even more of a mess than usual. Ron hung back sulkily, clutching his broom and avoiding her gaze.

Once Ginny released her, Hermione walked up to her boyfriend. "Ron? I came home from work early to surprise you," she said happily.

"I wasn't aware you even thought about me anymore," he sulked. "We never see each other."

"Don't be like that, Ron," she said, holding her hand out and touching his arm. "I've had a lot on the past few weeks, I know, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm here now and I want to spend the evening with you."

"Well maybe I want to spend the evening playing Quidditch," Ron said, and without looking at her, he pulled his arm away and promptly mounted his broom again, kicking off towards the goalpost.

Hermione watched him sadly. She had really hoped to reconcile with him tonight. Harry looked at her sympathetically, then mounted his broom and followed Ron. Ginny put her arm round her. "Don't mind my idiot brother. He's just moody. He'll get over it."

"I hope so," Hermione said, her eyes following Ron as he flew in loops above their heads. "I know what he wants, and I'm afraid I'm just not going to be enough for him."

"Don't think like that," Ginny insisted. "Look at me and Harry; we make it work fine, and I'm away half the time on Quidditch tours. Women can have careers and relationships at the same time - Ron just has to realise that you're not Molly and you never will be."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione smiled. "I suppose I'll head home for a bit then. But I'll see you all at the Ball in a couple of hours?"

"Definitely," her friend grinned. "I'm looking forward to it, I suspect now you're in charge you've put on a spectacular show."

Hermione laughed and with a short wave to Harry, Apparated away.

Two hours later, the War Memorial Ball was in full swing. Great banners of gold and silver rippled in the massive hall. House-elves ran to and fro, platters of food in their hands, skipping between the assembled guests. Long tables laden with snacks and drinks lined the edges of the room, with every type of food imaginable and then some; the bar at the back of the room was surrounded with people, jostling to buy rounds of Firewhiskey. Women in beautiful low-backed dresses and men in black tuxedos and bowties made polite conversation, drinks in hands, as the Weird Sisters played their hit songs up on the raised stage. Hermione, standing in the corner, surveyed her handiwork critically, and had to admit that it had all come off perfectly. She could finally relax.

She glanced around, hoping to see the trio enter. She could see Molly and Arthur chatting to Neville Longbottom over by the punch, and George was on the dance floor with Angelina Johnson (to whom he was happily engaged). Charlie was in Romania, Bill and Fleur were arriving later on, and Percy, as ever, had politely declined his invitation, claiming he had to work. She knew it was rubbish - nobody in the Ministry was working tonight - but she had let it slide. She didn't really like Percy much anyway. That just left Ron, Ginny and Harry, and as yet, she hadn't seen any of them.

She also hadn't seen Draco - but she wasn't looking for him, she told herself. She was just curious.

Just as this thought crossed her mind, out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of platinum-blond hair, and incredulously she turned to see Malfoy and his mother enter the room, arm in arm and looking somewhat nervously around. She could tell Draco was feeling the pressure as he was constantly running his free arm through his hair - a sign that he was stressed. She had seen it a lot in the run-up to his exams.

Without even thinking about it, she moved swiftly over to the entrance to greet them. "Draco, how lovely to see you, glad you could make it," she said with a smile, offering her hand to Draco, which he took with a flash of relief in his eyes. "And Mrs. Malfoy. You look lovely tonight." She wasn't lying; Narcissa had clearly spent hours organising her outfit and hairdo (probably, Hermione had to admit, with the assistance of numerous house-elves) and she looked twenty years younger.

"Narcissa, please, dear. I'm so glad we decided to come tonight. I feel it will be a good thing for the Malfoys to be seen in good company once more; it's been far too long since we have mixed with any respectable folk," Narcissa remarked. "And I must thank you, too, Miss Granger, for agreeing to drop old grudges. I know we have no right to expect anything, but we are very grateful for the chance you and Mr. Potter gave us."

"Call me Hermione," Hermione smiled, "and honestly, Narcissa, you and Draco didn't deserve prison, and I'm glad what we did was enough to keep you free. Let's call it water under the bridge, and start again, shall we?"

She led Draco and Narcissa over to a table at the back of the room. "Would anyone like drinks? They're on the house," she winked. "It helps to be the one who organised all this!"

"A Firewhiskey for me, please," Draco said. "On the rocks."

"I'll just have an iced tea, if you don't mind, Hermione," Narcissa said, organising the ruffles on her dress as she sat down.

"Coming right up," Hermione said, and whisked away to the bar. As she waited in line, she glanced back at the table, and was pleased to see Draco looking more relaxed, looking around appreciatively at the room. Drinks in hand, she returned five minutes later and took a seat next to her friend.

"So how has it been, these last couple of months?" Hermione asked. "I know it can't have been easy, what with Lucius and everything."

"Oh, please, dear," Narcissa cut in, "we are well rid of my husband. He was nothing but a power-hungry maniac, we all know it."

"You loved him, though, didn't you?" Hermione asked.

"It was an arranged marriage," Narcissa sighed. "I had no choice in the matter. Lucius was a good enough husband, I suppose - he worked, and he supported us, and he gave me Draco - but there was no love there. Only tolerance and mutual respect."

"Until Voldemort came into the picture," muttered Draco.

"Indeed. Well, it's behind us now, and he's behind us, and we can move on. I know I shall never be forcing Draco into any kind of marriage - Lucius was trying to insist that he marry that awful Greengrass girl - but I want my son to be happy," Narcissa said.

Draco smiled with a look of genuine affection at his mother, something that Hermione had never seen from him before. A faint smile appeared on her face in return, as she thought what her eleven-year-old self would say if she could see her twenty-one-year-old self sitting at a table with the Malfoys, chatting to Narcissa and thinking about Draco's affectionate eyes. It was all she could do not to chuckle.

The topic moved on from Lucius to Draco's potions career. He had graduated from his apprenticeship now, and was working on the manufacture of a new potion he was in the process of inventing, which would prevent pins and needles. He joked about it being only a minor thing, but he thought if it worked out, he'd be able to sell it to every airline and business centre in the world. The women laughed and they discussed the prospect of Draco's new venture, and Hermione expressed her admiration for his ambition, wondering what new things he would come up with in the future.

After about half an hour of pleasant conversation, though, the night took a sharp turn downhill.

Hermione was rudely interrupted mid-sentence by a fuming Ron Weasley, who stormed up to their table, ears redder than ever. "What do you think you're doing, Hermione?"

"Enjoying my evening with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy," Hermione replied, turning to face him. "Would you like to join us?"

"Join you? Join you?!" Ron looked like he was about to burst. "You don't spend any time with me - FOR TWO MONTHS - and then you come here and make merry with the Ferret Boy and Mummy dearest? Is that it, then, will you be moving into Malfoy Manor now?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald, you're embarrassing yourself," Hermione said, with an apologetic look at Draco and Narcissa who were watching the exchange with interest. "I came to the Burrow tonight and you said you wanted to play Quidditch, so I left you to it and came to help set up this event. Draco and Narcissa are guests here at my request, and I am enjoying making conversation with them. I think you should go away, find your manners and come back when you can talk like a civilised person."

With that, Hermione turned back to her conversation, leaving a flabbergasted and insulted Ron to storm away towards the toilets.

"I apologise," she said to the Malfoys, "he never did quite accept the water-under-the-bridge concept."

"That's quite alright," Narcissa said, but Draco was staring off in the direction Ron had gone, a strange burning in his eyes that Hermione couldn't quite identify.

"Are you alright, Draco?" she asked gently, shaking his arm.

"Yes- yes, sorry," he said, snapping out of his reverie and returning to the present. "What were we talking about?"

They continued their conversation for a while, but Hermione was still boiling with anger inside about what had happened with Ron, and though she smiled and laughed in all the right places, her heart was no longer in it. How dare he, she thought, how dare he come along and ruin my evening when I was having a perfectly lovely time.

Around 11pm, Hermione excused herself and went to the ladies' room. She had still seen nothing of Ginny or Harry, and was beginning to get concerned about their whereabouts. Neither of them had had a problem with Malfoy after the war, so she didn't think it likely that they were avoiding her based on her company. The only factor could be Ron, telling them she was having sex with Malfoy in the bathroom or something equally ridiculous. He tended to exaggerate when he was upset.

Once she'd got ahold of herself, she straightened up and left the toilets with a smile plastered on her face, determined to see the night through. She would not let Ron take away another moment of her being happy; she would deal with him in the morning.

"HERMIONE!" a bundle of red hair and sparkly gold sequins crashed into her.

"Ginny! What on earth is the matter?" Hermione asked, hugging her friend.

"Look!" Ginny drew back and showed Hermione her left hand, which now featured a beautiful golden band topped with an expensive diamond. "Harry proposed! We're getting married!"

"Oh Gin, that's wonderful," Hermione exclaimed, "I'm so happy for you!" And she was. After all that Harry had been through in the war, he more than anyone else deserved to be happy, and now he was going to have a real family of his own. It was almost too much and she began to tear up.

"Don't cry!" Ginny said, alarmed. "I haven't even asked you to be my maid of honour yet!"

That was the tipping point. Hermione smiled as tears ran down her face, to match Ginny's blue eyes which were welling up as hugged her best friend tightly again, so pleased that her two friends were going to be so happy together.

"Have you set a date?" she asked as they began to walk over to the food table.

"Not an exact day, but I know I want a winter wedding," Ginny said. "Can you imagine the Burrow in the snow, fairy lights everywhere, and me in a beautiful white dress?"

"Gin," Hermione said, "that sounds wonderful, but also bloody freezing!"

The two girls laughed as they took some plates and began piling them with snacks. Hermione glanced over at the Malfoys' table once again and was surprised to see that both of them had disappeared - she assumed they must have gone to mingle, or dance. The thought of Draco Malfoy dancing crossed her mind and made her giggle to herself - the concept was absurd.

"Have you seen Ron tonight?" Hermione asked Ginny as they found a table and sat down.

"Briefly," Ginny replied. "Harry and I came in and saw him sitting by himself, glaring into space. We figured you two had had another fight so Harry took him outside to calm down and I came to find you."

"A fight about sums it up," Hermione said, and relayed what had happened. "I was so embarrassed, I couldn't believe it. I might have been harsh but honestly, he can't just come barging in like that and shout at me."

"He's just frustrated," Ginny said contemplatively. "He's hardly seen you, and I know that's not your fault, but he sees it as a lack of commitment rather than dedication to your career. It gets into his head and makes him insecure, and then he takes it out on everyone else."

"I know it's a horrible situation," Hermione said, "I just hope it gets better."

"It will," Ginny affirmed, "and to be honest, it can't have helped, him seeing you with Malfoy. You know he never got over all that childhood stuff. How is Ferret Boy doing anyway?"

They turned the conversation to Draco and his potioneering, and the night whiled away as they caught up. It had been a long time since Ginny and Hermione had had a chance to have a real chat, with her Quidditch schedule and Hermione's hours at the Ministry taking their toll. It was nice to just sit and have a real conversation for once - this was how it felt when she chatted with Draco.

"Excuse me," a voice cut in, and they looked up to see a grinning Harry with a twinkle in his eye. "Sorry to interrupt you girls and your gossip, but may I ask my future bride for this dance?"

Ginny squealed and leapt up, holding her hand out to her fiance, and the pair of them headed off onto the dance floor. Hermione sat, finishing her plate of nibbles and observing the atmosphere of the party. She was just about to get up and head to the bar when a tall, black-robed figure stepped in front of her. "Care to dance?"

She grinned up at Draco. "Haven't we caused enough outrage tonight?"

"Not nearly enough," he replied, and took her hand, leading her over to the floor underneath the stage. It was a slow-tempo song, and for a second Hermione was worried, but Draco was ever the gentleman and kept himself at arm's distance, his other hand firmly on her waist. It was nice, she thought, to just dance and forget. After all, this was what the War Memorial Ball had been about - celebrating the future of unity and peace that they had achieved - and as she looked around she saw Seamus Finnegan dancing with Pansy Parkinson, and Luna Lovegood with Neville, and Arthur Weasley with Narcissa Malfoy. This union, this disregard for petty house rivalries, was what they had been trying to achieve, this was what they had fought for; and she was pleased to see it unfolding before her eyes. It was just a shame that not everyone could see how brilliant this newfound harmony was.

She looked up at Draco again to see him smiling down at her, grey eyes no longer guarded and angry, but warm and soft. "It really is nice to see you, Draco. We should do things together more often," she said.

"I agree," he replied, giving her a twirl. "I have been far too busy with work recently, but the potion is about to be ready, and when it is, I'll have a lot more time on my hands - it will be nice to socialise properly again."

"Do you still see anyone from school much?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," he admitted. "The old crowd never really got back together after...everything. Some of us went one way and some of us went another. Pansy's still around, but she's engaged to Greg now so they spend most of their time together."

"Greg...as in Goyle?" Hermione stifled a snigger.

"Don't laugh!" Draco admonished, though he was struggling to hide a smirk as well. "He was devastated after...well, you know what happened to Vince...and she was there for him. I think it's good for them. Gets her away from following me like a lost puppy all the time, anyway."

"God, I remember that, she was unbearable," Hermione laughed.

"Try being the one she's fixated on," Draco muttered, only making her laugh all the harder. "I swear, after second year I never got a minute's peace."

After their laughter died down, he continued. "Blaise and I keep in touch, but he's living in Italy at the moment with his mother. Lucky bastard. And Theo Nott's still about, he works down the road from me so we meet up for lunch occasionally."

"That's nice," Hermione said. "I always liked Theo a bit more than the rest of you Slytherins. He picked up my books for me once outside the library. And he always smiled at me when nobody was looking."

"That's 'cause he fancied you," Draco said flippantly.

"What?! He did not!" Hermione exclaimed, blushing furiously.

"Did so. He used to talk about it in the common room - about fifth year onwards I think. Obviously he tried to pretend it was just to get you into bed - Mudblood this and Gryffindor Princess that - but we all knew he liked you."

"God, I had no idea," Hermione said, scanning the room as if he would suddenly appear.

"Why, do you go for the skinny quiet blokes then?" Draco teased. "Would we have seen an epic cross-House romance between you and Theo?"

"Not my type," Hermione said, scrunching her nose up, "plus, he used to pick his nose in Transfiguration. Massive turn off." They burst into laughter again.

They had been dancing for four songs before Hermione realised that the music had changed, and they were in fact waltzing to a fast, bouncy tune. They lapsed once again into hysterics and left the dance floor for the bar. How lovely it was to see Draco smile and hear him laugh, thought Hermione as he grinned at her and signalled the bartender. He was nothing like the snotty brat she had grown up with, or the tense and stressed Draco of seventh year. For the first time in a long time, she could tell he was genuinely happy.

They sat, conversing about books and drinking Firewhiskey well into the small hours. Hermione found him engaging, delightful and intelligent, and for the first time in a long time, she could sit and debate with an intellectual equal about the things she liked to talk about. She had no thought of Ron all night until Draco mentioned him suddenly.

"The Weasel then. You two must have been together a while now."

She grimaced. "Yes. Since the Battle of Hogwarts, although it was sort of going on before that. I suppose we just sort of...drifted together, you know? Harry had Ginny and it was only natural that I would end up dating Ron."

"You don't sound too thrilled about it," Draco comented, watching her over the rim of his glass.

"I was at first," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I liked the idea of being a real part of the Weasley family, at the thought of having such a large and wonderful family. Being an only child, and somewhat mature for my age, I've always been a bit of a lonely person."

"So you only liked him because of his brothers?" Draco asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, no," Hermione defended, "I mean...we get along, and he treats me nicely. It's great when the four of us - me, Ron, Harry and Ginny, I mean - are all hanging out."

"That's the problem, though, Hermione," Draco said in earnest. "When you're all together. It sounds to me like you don't really love the Weasel like you want to. Not really. I mean, take my advice or don't, but the exchange I witnessed earlier was not one of a happy young couple."

"Well, we've both been stressed recently," Hermione said, "I've been at work a lot."

"I'll bet," Draco said, gesturing around them, "Putting all this together must have taken an extraordinary amount of effort. It's a wonderful event."

Hermione blushed. She never heard compliments about her work. "Thanks, Draco."

"Well," he said, sliding off his stool, "I had better go and find Mother and take her home."

"You're going already?" Hermione asked, disappointed. "There's still another hour to go."

"Yes," Draco said, "but Mother doesn't do well with late nights; and besides," he added, nodding over her shoulder, "your dearly beloved is on his way over here, and he doesn't look too happy to see me."

Hermione glanced over to see Ron threading his way through the crowd towards them, a frown etched on his freckly face. "Alright then, Draco. Are we still on for lunch on Monday?"

"I'll pick you up from the Ministry at one," Draco promised, and leant down to kiss her hand gently. "Thank you for a fantastic evening."

"My pleasure," Hermione answered with a smile, and watched his retreating back as he edged his way into the throng of people in search of Narcissa. How much some people could change.

"Hermione," a different voice sounded behind her, and she inwardly braced herself and swung round to face Ron.

"Hello Ron. Have you calmed down?"

"Yes," he said apologetically, shuffling his feet. "I was wrong to come up and yell at you. You did come to the Burrow to see me, and I blew you off. I shouldn't have. I was just angry."

"It's ok, Ron," she said gently. "I know it's been tough the last couple of months, but it'll get better from here. The stress of this whole mad event is over and I can concentrate on us now."

"But 'Mione, I don't understand about Malfoy," Ron said, the frown appearing again between his brows. "Why were you talking to him, and dancing with him all night? He's scum."

"Not any more," she replied in a warning tone. "You know we put all that behind us, Ron, and I can't see why you can't do that as well. He was a perfect gentleman tonight."

"He's up to something, 'Mione, I swear," Ron insisted. "I'm going to find out what he's doing."

"Oh, grow up," Hermione said snappishly, "we're not eleven anymore. He's matured into a perfectly nice man, who's sorry for his past. It's just a shame you can't let it go as well. Harry and I have."

"He's plotting against us," Ron said, his ears reddening again, "and I'm going to find out how."

"Do what you want," Hermione said, "but I'll have no part of it, as far as I'm concerned he's fine. In fact, he's taking me out to lunch on Monday afternoon to discuss his new potion."

"Lunch?" Ron spluttered. "Since when do you lunch with Malfoy?"

"Since he politely asked me tonight to accompany him to lunch next week to get my input on his new project," Hermione responded. "It's really not a big issue. It's just like my having lunch with Harry."

"I'm coming," Ron said. "If you're going to lunch with Malfoy, I'm going to be there."

"Why on earth would you want to? You can't stand him," Hermione said. "You're just going to come along, spout abuse at him, accuse him of plotting and quite frankly spoil everyone's lunchtime. Honestly, Ron, I can't deal with that, so if you don't mind, we'll be lunching alone."

Ron was quiet for a moment. "He's your source, isn't he? For the Death Eater roundup. He told you where to find them."

"Ron-" Hermione began, holding up a hand.

"No, don't 'Ron' me. He was in contact with his Death Eater pals the whole time, wasn't he, and then just decided to give them up? Why? What's in it for him?" Ron was ranting now. "You, Hermione, he wants you, and I have to know why! Is he trying to get to Harry, d'you think?"

"No, I don't, Ron, and I'm tired of this conversation," Hermione sighed, getting up off her bar stool. The hall was starting to empty now, as people gradually dwindled home. "If you've convinced yourself that Malfoy is still a Death Eater, then you'd be wrong, but you're free to waste as much time as you want chasing him, just don't talk to me about it. I'm going to start helping them clear up this mess."

"I'm just trying to protect you, 'Mione," Ron said in a small voice. "I love you."

She softened slightly. "Draco isn't a threat to us anymore, Ron. You don't need to protect me. But thank you for looking out for me. I know you always do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all, thanks again for sticking with the story, and all the follows and favourites, it's great to see such a good response. This will be a bit of a slow burner I'm afraid, but as we get further in, Ron will get worse and there will be more and more Draco/Hermione interaction, so bear with me.**

**I hope you enjoy it - I own nothing but the plot.**

Over the next few weeks, as her department relaxed in the aftermath of the Ball, Hermione's workload eased off. She was home on time almost every day, to Ron's delight, and consequently their relationship became much less strained and angsty, and back to the easy, flowing rhythm they had had at the beginning.

Ginny was eager to get started on the wedding plans, so Hermione found herself being dragged from shop to shop looking at cakes, dresses, flowers, invitations and other assorted paraphernalia. She didn't mind really, and was pleased to see her friend so excited about getting married. She wasn't sure she would be this enthusiastic the day she married Ron.

"So Gin," Hermione asked one day as they were tasting yet more vanilla cake, "what's happening with the Haripes after you get married? I mean, are you going to quit?"

"I don't really know yet," Ginny said, her fingers sticky with icing. "I mean, I would like to play more Quidditch in my life, but it means I have to be away from home a lot, and I do miss Harry so much when I'm gone. Plus, if I want to start a family, it'll mean the end of my career with the Harpies anyway; pregnant women can't fly brooms!"

Hermione giggled. "Do you think you'll start trying for kids straightaway?"

"That's what Mum and Dad did," Ginny mused, "but I think I'd like to enjoy being married for a bit first, you know. You're only young once, and I want to spend some more time with just Harry before we introduce little ones into the mix."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Hermione replied.

"Of course it does, Hermione," Ginny said, exasperated, "you're all about your career. Honestly, I'll be surprised if you have kids before you're 35 - you've always been so independent and successful, I don't see you wanting to settle down and give it all up for a long time yet."

"Not if Ron has his way," Hermione muttered which caused the redhead to giggle.

"Yes, well, my brother can learn what kind of woman he's with, or he can find a new one," Ginny chuckled. "Nobody can force the Brightest Witch of our Age to do anything before she's ready."

Though Hermione laughed about it with her friend, she was getting more and more concerned about Ron's attitude. Though he wasn't overtly mentioning it anymore, he was clearly infused with the same wedding fever that Ginny was - hoping, perhaps, that a wedding between two of their friends would cause Hermione to magically want to get married as well. In all honesty, Hermione wouldn't have minded being married to Ron, but she knew that to him, marriage meant kids straightaway, and she wasn't ready for that. Like Ginny said, she had built up a successful career, and she didn't want to throw that all away just yet.

"How's it going with Draco, anyway?" Ginny asked her, changing the subject as she switched her attention to the chocolate cake.

"Good," Hermione answered absently, her mind still wandering slightly, worrying over the Ron situation. "He's finished his Pins and Needles Elixir now and that's going to be rolled out into shops pretty soon. He's got a brand new project he's working on now, but he won't tell me what it is."

"Maybe it's top-secret," Ginny suggested.

"I doubt it," Hermione said, still not fully focused. "From what I remember, Draco prefers to start his work alone and only ask for input when he needs it. He doesn't like to share right from the beginning because he wants it to have come from him."

"From what you remember?" Ginny frowned. "When have you helped him before?"

Suddenly, Hermione was back in the present, with a confused Ginny looking her in the face. The reality of what she had just let slip hit her, and her hands instinctually flew up to her mouth. "Promise you won't say anything to the boys, Gin," Hermione said. "Especially not Ron."

"What is it?" Ginny asked in a low tone. "It must be serious if it's got you this worked up."

"Well," Hermione began, "when we went back to Hogwarts, d'you remember how on a Thursday evening I'd go down to the library for extra credit work with McGonagall?"

"Yeah..." Ginny said slowly.

"I wasn't doing extra credit work," Hermione admitted. "I was tutoring Draco in his Muggle Studies NEWT."

"Oh my god! That whole year?!"

"Yes! He came to me asking for help - he begged, Ginny, Malfoy actually pleaded with me! He had to pass his exam as part of his sentence, but he was a year behind. I agreed to tutor him, since I grew up with Muggles..." she tailed off and glanced falteringly at her friend.

"That's hilarious," Ginny burst out. "Malfoy asking a Muggle-born for help, it must have killed him! I see why he's so different now, I suppose. You could have told him anything about Muggles and he would have believed you, he must have trusted you a lot."

"I guess so," Hermione agreed. "I don't really think he had anyone else he could ask, none of the Slytherins took Muggle Studies and it's not like he really endeared himself to any of the Muggle-borns in the school during the first six years."

Ginny was still giggling. "But why don't you want the guys to know?"

"Can you imagine Ron's reaction? Knowing I'd been sitting alone with Draco in an empty classroom every Thursday night for a year?"

"Good point," Ginny mumbled, her mouth full of chocolate cake. "This is awesome, by the way, try this."

Hermione acquiesced and took a forkful of cake. "Are you sure you're okay not telling?"

"Yeah, course," Ginny said with a smile. "To be honest, it's not like the subject of Malfoy comes up much when I chat to Ron and Harry. Increasingly with you, though," she added with a wink.

Hermione flushed. "We're friends."

"Yup. Lunch friends," Ginny teased. "As far as I remember, that's where most relationships start from. Lunch."

"Don't be silly, I'm dating your brother," Hermione laughed. "Now what about this strawberry cake?"

"Change the subject all you like," Ginny began, scooping some of the cake up, "but you and I both know - oh Merlin, this cake is gorgeous - that you're attracted to him - mmm, I need more of this - at least a little bit."

Hermione hesitated. "Maybe a little bit. But that's just natural!" she added hastily at Ginny's triumphant gesture, her mouth too full of cake to speak. "There are no real feelings there."

"Say what you like, but I know what I see," Ginny managed to mumble, crumbs spraying everywhere.

"You're going to be the most beautiful bride ever," Hermione said critically, eyeing the table.

"Shut up," Ginny hit her on the arm and swallowed. "This strawberry cake is the one. It's divine. Let's finish up here and start looking at shoes."

"Oh, Merlin, I forgot about the shoes..." Hermione groaned jokingly, but allowed herself to be pulled away from the crumb-ridden table and up to the counter to order the cake.

It happened two weeks later.

They were out for a night at the Three Broomsticks with the old Gryffindor crowd and their friends. Everyone was there from their year - Dean, Seamus, Neville (with Luna in tow), Parvati, Padma, Ron, Harry, Hermione and, of course, Ginny. They were catching up over some Butterbeers and laughing about Neville's description of their panicked run through the hallways in first year, running away from Fluffy, when the subject of Malfoy came up again.

"That was Malfoy's fault all along, wasn't it?" Neville finished, wiping tears from his eyes. "I guess we should thank him now, it makes for a great story."

"Hermione can thank him for you, they're best friends now," Ron cut in. He was still touchy on the subject of Draco and didn't like it when Hermione mentioned him. Privately, she hoped he had given up on his crusade to prove some sort of plot against them, but from the steely glint in his eyes when the name Malfoy was spoken, she had to admit he probably hadn't.

"Really?" Seamus spoke up. "I know he's a bit of a nicer bloke nowadays - he even apologised for all them comments about me mam - but I didn't know you were so close with him."

"I'm not, really," Hermione said, flashing a glare at Ron, "we meet up for lunch every now and again. He's a potioneer now and he likes to get my input on his new projects. You know the new Pins and Needles Elixir? That's Draco."

"I love that stuff," Dean exclaimed, "it's brilliant for when you're flying long distances. Really stops your bum from going numb."

Laughter rippled through the group and Hermione sighed with relief. She didn't need any reason to have a fight with Ron tonight - they had been so good recently, she didn't want to bring it all up again.

Sadly, it was not to be.

"Hey, look, isn't that Malfoy over there?" Parvati asked, and they all turned to look as a blond-haired wizard walked in the door. "Yeah, it is! Hey, MALFOY!"

He looked up, startled to hear his name, and cautiously made his way over to the table. He looked veryu uneasy, Hermione thought, as the entire group were staring up at him.

"Good evening," he greeted them. "How are you all?"

"We're good, thanks, mate," Seamus said. "Hermione was just telling us how you're the one behind that new Pins and Needles stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," Draco said, his eyes flickering briefly to Hermione as he smiled. "I'm glad you like it."

"Want a Butterbeer?" Harry asked as he got up. "I'm getting another round."

"No, thanks, I'm supposed to be meeting some people here," Draco said, glancing around the room.

"No worries! They can join us too!" Dean exclaimed. He had had a few too many, Hermione thought.

"Well - alright then - I suppose," Draco really couldn't find a way to decline, so he eased himself hesitantly into a space on the cushioned pew next to Hermione, who budged up to make room for him and smiled welcomingly.

"Don't worry, they don't bite," Luna said softly from the other side of the table. Draco nodded at her somewhat awkwardly and moved closer to Hermione.

As she sat there with Draco on her left and Ron on her right, Hermione was feeling decidedly awkward. She could feel by the tension in Ron's frame that he was NOT alright with Draco joining their table, but he wasn't about to say anything in front of all their friends. For that, at least, Hermione was grateful. Draco, on the other hand, was squished up next to her, huddling close as if the rest of them would eat him. He wasn't used to these sorts of socialisations, she knew, as the Slytherins were usually far more constrained in their interactions and didn't tend towards the loud group drinking sessions.

Harry returned levitating a cluster of Butterbeers, and they each took one (Dean with a loud cheer) and began to talk again. The conversation buzzed around Hermione, but she found she couldn't concentrate on what was being said - there was too much tension surrounding her, and she thought Ron might explode, his ears now the colour of a stop sign. She wanted to get up and just go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't in between Ron and Draco, but she knew if she did, they would be next to each other and all hell would probably break loose.

Ginny noticed her discomfort and gave her a sympathetic look, but everyone else was too busy to notice.

Suddenly she heard her name and zoned back in. "Sorry, Neville, did you ask me something?"

"Yeah, I was just saying how brilliant the Ball was. You and your department did a smashing job," Neville complimented her. "Luna and I had a great time."

"Thanks," she replied, "it was a lot of work to put it all together, but I'm glad it worked out."

"Saw you there, Malfoy," Neville said. Though Draco had made amends with Neville as well, he had never quite warmed up to him after the abuse he had put him through - understandably. "You and Hermione were really showing up the dance floor!"

"What can I say? She's an excellent dancer," Draco replied, with a small smile.

"It was nice to see you enjoying yourself for once, Malfoy," Harry said, sipping his drink. "That's the first time I think I saw you actually smile - I mean really smile, not sneer." He added the last part teasingly, and Draco chuckled.

"Oh God! The famous Malfoy sneer," Dean shouted, and imitated the haughty look Draco used to do in school. Harry burst out laughing, and soon everyone round the table was trying to copy it.

"Come on mate, give us a sneer. For old times' sake," Seamus said, nudging Draco, who was looking decidedly amused by the whole escapade. "Go on!"

"Alright, alright," Draco agreed, "here goes." He scrunched up his face in concentration, and then lifted his chin and sneered round at everyone on the table. "Well, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel," he said in his best snooty-young-Malfoy tone, and the whole table, barring Ron, fell about laughing. Hermione herself was almost in tears, the hilarity of Draco's manner too much to take.

"Merlin, I can't believe I used to actually act like that," Draco said afterwards, letting the expression drop from his face and joining in the mirth.

The only person who seemed not to be enjoying the evening was Ron. He still had not calmed down since Draco sat down, and he sat there, tight-lipped, shooting daggers at the blond man and refusing to touch his Butterbeer. His face reddened at Draco's "Weasel" comment, and after Draco's exclamation of disbelief he couldn't hold his temper any longer.

"For the love of Merlin, have you all gone mad?!" he burst out, standing up and causing everyone at the table to go silent and exchange puzzled looks. "It's Malfoy! Fucking Malfoy! And you're all sitting here cosying up to him, laughing about how he used to taunt us and bully us? He's a Death Eater! He killed Fred - and Lavender - and Tonks, and Lupin, and DUMBLEDORE!"

The whole pub was not deathly silent, everyone's eyes on Ron. Draco had sunk down into his chair, trying to avoid everyone's gaze, and Hermione found his hand under the table and squeezed it gently. Not quite finished though, Ron continued yelling at the top of his lungs.

"He thinks he can just say sorry and it all goes away, well it doesn't! He and his family hurt people, and killed people, and he should never be welcome in decent society. Merlin knows how he avoided Azkaban. Well now he's wormed his way in, and he's going to try something, he's working his way towards Harry and you'll all be sorry for letting him get there when Harry is hurt because of him!"

He turned towards Hermione.

"And you! Dancing with him at the Ball, spending time with him, going for "lunch"...he's using you, Hermione, can't you see it? He knows you'll give him a chance, and you're his way in. Once he's finished with you he'll drop you without a word and you'll be hurt. Don't look at me like that. He's evil, and you're too soft, and that's not a good combination. You have to stop seeing him or he'll wreck everything!"

Draco had had enough at this point. He had been keeping himself in check, mainly for Hermione's benefit, unwilling to start a fight with her significant other in polite company, but this was too much.

"Look here, Weasel," he said, standing up and letting go of Hermione's hand. "You can say what you like about me; to be honest, I've never really liked you either, and it doesn't surprise me that you're too immature to put things in the past. You don't get it, do you? After everything that happened - everyone that died - we need to stop this fucking poisonous blame culture and get on with our lives, because there's bigger things to worry about in the world than petty school rivalries. Everyone else can see that, why can't you?"

Draco paused for breath, but as Ron opened his mouth to respond, he interrupted him. "No - don't answer - it was a rhetorical question. I know why you can't, and it's because you've not got two brain cells to rub together. You've always coasted along on the bravery of Potter and the brilliance of Hermione. Well, if you're going to stand against me, you're going to stand alone, because they can see the importance of letting things go. But you know what grinds my gears the most? Out of all of this? That you think I'm trying to use this wonderful woman to get to Harry and enact some sort of revenge. That, out of every bit of bullshit that's come out of your mouth to date, is the worst. I'm friends with Hermione because she's a lovely person, a brilliant, intelligent woman, and you devalue her by insinuating I'm only using her to get to Potter. Her personality alone is more than enough to justify my spending time with her, because actually, I have more in common with her than anyone else I've ever met."

Draco stopped, breathing heavily, his hair messy and his face red. "Now please excuse me everyone. Thank you for the drink, Harry - I hope you all have a pleasant evening." And with all the grace of the aristocracy into which he was born, he nodded politely at the rest of the table, drew himself up, squared his shoulders and walked away, out of the pub.

"Still can't control his temper. Stupid ferret," Ron muttered, sitting down moodily and grabbing his drink. Everyone looked at him with varied expressions of disbelief, irritation and anger. Hermione, though, was in tears, and this time it was not the happy kind.

"Excuse me," she said, shuffling away, needing to get out.

"'Mione, where are you going?" Ron grabbed her arm.

"DON'T. Ron. Just leave me alone. You've done enough damage," she said, unable to look at him as tears poured uncontrollably down her face. "I am so embarrassed. Let me go, please."

Abashed, Ron released her arm, and she drew it to her and got up, gathering her things and avoiding everyone's gaze. "Sorry everyone. I think I'm going to call it a night. It was lovely to see you all. I'll call you later, Gin."

There were subdued goodbyes murmured around the table as she whisked herself away and Apparated home, where she sunk down to the floor in the corridor of her building and cried her eyes out. How could this happen? Why couldn't Ron just get on with Draco?

Sniffling, she pulled herself up off the floor and let herself into her flat. She cried out in surprise and shock, and her hand flew to her wand as she saw someone sitting on the couch. "Who's there?"

"It's me," a familiar voice said hastily, and Draco moved forward so she could see his hands held up in surrender. "Only me."

Hermione did not lower her wand. "What did I call you in third year, just before I slapped you in the face?"

Draco laughed, despite the anguished expression on his face. "A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself and put her wand away. "Can't be too careful. And don't come barging into my apartment like that, you terrified me!" she admonished.

"Sorry," Draco replied, going into the kitchen and starting to make some tea. "I felt really awful about what happened back there, and I just couldn't go home yet, I wanted to apologise."

"You? What for?" Hermione asked.

"Losing it and screaming at your boyfriend," Draco answered, and she laughed and grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard.

"Don't be silly. You didn't start it. In all honesty, I think what you said was completely justified and exactly what he needed to hear."

"Good," Draco said, and then stood there a little awkwardly holding his cup. "I really only came to apologise; I've done that. If you want to be alone I can go." He made to put the cup down.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Don't leave. I was feeling awful before - what Ron did was so embarrassing, I had to get out of there, and I didn't know what to do with myself, but your being here has made me feel a little better. Stay and keep me company."

Draco smiled. "Alright."

They sat down on the couch, nursing their mugs of tea, and Hermione turned on her television, an acquisition from Muggle London. Draco had become very interested in the concept of television and films since taking his Muggle Studies NEWT, and he was determined to make up for his limited access to one (given that the Manor was so full of old magic, nothing electronic worked in there) by watching Hermione's as much as possible.

They sat and talked, and watched television late into the night. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found, and Hermione told Draco he had probably just gone out for the night, as he sometimes tended to do. Tea turned into Firewhiskey at about midnight, and the conversation turned to the events of the evening.

"I just can't believe Ron did that," Hermione was saying. "I know he has never got over...well, everything. But to attack you like that in the middle of the pub, with all our friends - I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"I tried to hold it in," Draco told her. "I swear, I was trying to keep my temper in check."

"I remember," Hermione giggled, "your hand was squeezing mine so hard I thought it would break!"

"Oh Merlin, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Draco asked anxiously, picking up her hand and inspecting it. "I didn't even think about it, I was just focusing on keeping my cool."

"It's fine," Hermione laughed. "I'm amazed you held it in as long as you did."

"Well, hearing him say those things about you - those horrible things, that I was using you and you were stupid and naive...I just couldn't handle that. Someone insulting me, I can take, but not someone insulting you. I just lost it." Draco hung his head. "After all that work - the Gryffindors are all going to think I'm a total wanker."

"Not at all," Hermione assured him. "Every single one of them has screamed at Ron like that before, or wanted to. They get it. And you said such lovely things about me," she added with a slight blush.

"Only true things," Draco said, still a bit miserable. The alcohol was affecting him. "I was trying so hard to fit in, I'm really worried that I've gone and fucked it all up now."

"You haven't," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly. She leaned over to stroke his face comfortingly. He looked up at her with stormy grey eyes full of emotion, and he looked so handsome, and he had been so lovely to her, and had become such a great friend and a wonderful person, and the Firewhiskey was buzzing in her head...

Before she knew it, her lips had connected with his neck, and she slowly and seductively kissed her way up to his ear, feeling him stiffen beneath her touch. She took his face in her hands, and moved closer to him, forgetting everything but his taste, and his smell, and the beautiful things he had said about her. She kept kissing trails over his neck.

The tension in his muscles lessened, and he seemed to give in to her, moving closer and beginning to kiss her back, drawing in her scent and closing his eyes. Suddenly, though, he drew back, a horrified expression on his face, pushing her gently off him.

"We can't...we can't be doing this, Hermione. Not you and me."

She looked up at him, uncomprehending, her brain filled with desire and passion. Slowly, she understood what he was saying, and threw herself away, mortified. He saw her reaction and seemed to realise what he'd said. "No - sorry - I didn't mean it like that. Just - it's not right. You're my best friend, and you're with Ron, and Merlin, Hermione, I just can't do this," he said in frustration.

"No - it's ok - I understand. You'd better go," she said in a muffled voice, eyes fixed firmly on the floor and hands over her face.

Draco looked hurt and reached out to her. "Please, Hermione, I care about you so much, you know that. That's why I'm stopping this. It's for the best."

"Yes - course - for the best. Okay, goodnight then," she said, batting his hand away.

Draco sighed. "I'll call you tomorrow. Please don't be upset over this. We can forget it ever happened."

Hermione mumbled an agreement but didn't reply, so he turned and let himself out with a distraught expression on his face. She waited until she heard his footsteps receding down the corridor and then burst into tears, throwing herself on the couch.

She knew she shouldn't have done it. She knew she was emotional, and upset, and drunk. She knew that he was right to stop it, and that he was not trying to hurt her. She knew these things. So why did his rejection, the knowledge that Draco would not want her, sting so much? Her burst of sexual desire for him had only been the result of emotional turmoil and proximity, hadn't it? A way to find comfort?

And yet...his taste still lingered on her tongue.

Suddenly, she sat up, all thoughts of crying forgotten as a puzzle presented itself. This was something she could do - think logically, and solve a problem. Forgoing the Firewhiskey for now, she got up to make herself another cup of tea, her mind beginning to turn over the emotions running wild within her and make sense of what was happening. The television rambled on in the background.

She and Draco got on very well. They were compatible. They had a lot in common, and since he had stopped being an enormous douche, underneath he was actually a very, very nice man, who had had a tough break in his childhood and a lot of emotional pain to deal with. They understood each other - they were on the same wavelength.

Hermione had taken that to be a very good friendship. But what if it was more?

Certainly, he was a handsome man. His high aristocratic cheekbones and smooth, silky blond hair were not typical of the traditional, rugged masculine attractiveness, but Draco was appealing in another kind of way - the emotion in his eyes and the precise, measured way he held himself drew Hermione to him. She could not deny that she had caught herself looking once or twice.

But was there a connection there? They were great as friends, and until tonight Hermione didn't think she had felt that strong pull, the feeling in her stomach of a real romantic attraction. But less than an hour ago, when she had been devouring him on her couch, she had felt everything she normally felt with Ron tenfold. The rush of emotion that had swept across her entire body and heart was unmistakable.

She was falling for him.

The question now, she considered, sipping the last dregs from her cup as the final beats of the EastEnders theme tune thrummed around her, was what she would do about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all - apologise for the inordinate delay in uploading this chapter. In the last few days I've changed job, got a new house and said goodbye to three friends who are moving away. Hopefully the updates will become more frequent from now on; I have the next couple of chapters written ready.**

**Thanks for sticking with the story, and I promise there will be some more H/Dr action soon.**

The next day, Hermione called Ginny to let her know she was okay. Ginny apologised for the actions of her brother and assured her nobody blamed her for leaving. Ron had apparently gone home chastised by all his friends and she promised he would be ringing Hermione later on to apologise.

The thought of Ron twisted Hermione's stomach a bit, but she chose to say nothing to Ginny. Not yet.

Draco had called the next morning, and Hermione had acted fine. She assured him she was not upset, and that they could forget all about it, and she was sorry for throwing herself at him. He had sounded relieved that she was okay with him, and a small bubble of happiness erupted in her chest at the thought of him caring that much about their relationship. She was still unsure how to deal with her feelings, as they had now so obviously manifested themselves, except to bide her time, figure out how she felt about Ron and remember NEVER to get drunk around Draco until she could work out what she wanted.

Of course, she reminded herself hastily, Draco probably did not want her. As nice as he had been the previous night, he had rejected her completely, and she was unsure of his motive. Was he trying to spare her feelings by saying what he had said, unwilling to confess that he didn't find her attractive and didn't want to pursue any sort of romance with her? She mulled it over as a possibility - after all, her hair was wild and bushy, she was shorter than average and she knew she could be bossy and arrogant without meaning to. There were plenty of reasons he might not want her.

By the end of the day, Ron still hadn't called. She wasn't concerned, really; after all, he had acted despicably and she still wasn't sure she was ready to talk to him. But in the back of her mind was the lingering thought that Draco had called straightaway this morning to make sure she was okay, and Ron remained silent, even though he was the one in the wrong.

After three days had passed without a word from Ron, Hermione began to worry. He had never sulked for this long before, and she was concerned that he had somehow found out about her moment of weakness with Draco. True, nothing had actually happened - not even a real kiss, thanks to him - but she still felt a little guilty about it, and resolved to visit the Burrow after work and reconcile with Ron. After all, now they had both done wrong.

That evening, she Apparated to the Burrow. All seemed fine when she entered; Molly was her usual kindly, overbearing self and Ginny greeted her normally. When she asked where Ron was, though, both mother and daughter set their mouths in identical thin lines and told her they hadn't seen him since the night of the argument. According to Ginny, Harry was in touch with him and he had told him that he was feeling too ashamed to come home and wanted to have a few days away to think.

Hermione said what all three women were thinking. "Ron never needs time away to think."

"No," Molly said, a note of disapproval in her voice, "and I don't think for a second he's actually ashamed of himself. My son is many things, but accepting blame is not one of his strengths."

"So where is he?" Hermione pondered.

"Not a clue," Ginny responded, "but I wouldn't waste time worrying, Hermione. He hasn't called you since the incident and frankly, you deserve better."

Molly and Ginny continued to debate Ron's whereabouts and his abandonment of responsibility, but Hermione wasn't listening. She thought she knew where Ron might be. With a hurried apology, she excused herself from their company and Apparated away.

At the beginning of their relationship, after the war, Ron had shown Hermione a place he had bought in the city. It was a tiny studio flat, barely big enough for one person to live in, but he told her that he had needed to get away from the Burrow during the day; to get away from all the grief and anger that had filled the house after Fred's death. He had used it as a hiding place, a getaway, and made Hermione promise that she would never tell anyone about it. She stood outside it now, and saw a light shining in the tiny, cracked window.

She stepped up to the door and knocked, and heard a shuffling about inside. She smiled; she had found him. However, he didn't open the door, so she called his name, and heard the shuffling intensify. Wondering what could possibly be taking him so long to get to the door, she tried it and found it open.

"Ron? We're worried about you," she began as she entered the flat, but froze at the sight before her. Ron was almost passed out on the floor, empty bottles surrounding him. The furniture had been knocked over, probably in anger, and the smell was awful.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, and ran to her boyfriend, crouching over him."What happened?"

"'M sorry 'Mione," he groaned, half-conscious. "Shouldn'ta...shouldn't..."

"Don't," she said soothingly. "Don't worry now. Go to sleep, and we'll sort you out and get you home, okay?"

"'Kay," he mumbled, his eyes half-open and glazed over. She immediately sent a Patronus to get Harry, and sat beside him to wait for their friend's arrival.

It didn't take long for Harry to arrive, and when he did, he was shocked at the extent of Ron's binge. "I knew he was drinking - I could hear it in his voice - but I had no idea it was this bad. I swear, Hermione, if I'd known..."

"Don't worry," Hermione said, "it's not your fault. It's not like he would have listened to you anyway - you know how he gets."

"Yeah. Judging from the contents of these bottles, he's not critical - he won't need St. Mungo's - but we should take him home where Molly can look after him," Harry said. "He probably won't come round properly for a few days. This is strong stuff he's been drinking."

"No," Hermione said, "we can't take him to the Burrow. Molly would never let him leave the house again if she saw him like this. Bring him to my flat. He can take the bed, I'll kip on the couch until he's right again."

"Fair point," Harry conceded. "Let's each take an arm and Apparate on the count of three - it'll take both of us to pull him all the way to yours."

They got Ron inside the flat and settled him in Hermione's bed, where he rolled over, groaning, and properly dozed off. "Keep an eye on him, and if he shows any signs of seizures or prolonged unconsciousness, take him to St. Mungo's," Harry instructed, his First Aid unit from the Auror basic training proving very useful at this moment. Hermione nodded. "I'm going to go back to the Burrow, tell them Ron's fine and he's at yours."

"Thanks Harry," Hermione said. Her friend waved, then paused at the door. "Look," he said, turning back, "I'm not going to tell you how to live your life. But this -" he gestured at the prostrate Ron on the bed - "this isn't a happy relationship. Something needs to change with you two, Hermione, because neither of you are happy at the moment, and I hate to see what it's doing to you both."

"I know," Hermione replied quietly. "I've known that something has to change for a while. I think Ron and I need to sit down and just figure out what. Thanks for the advice Harry; you're a good friend."

"I'm always here if you need me," Harry said, and with an encouraging smile, left to tell Ginny and Molly the night's news.

Hermione ensured Ron was lying comfortably and able to breathe, then went into the living room to relax with a book. Harry was right, she knew, and if she and Ron were to continue being together, one or both of them were going to have to change. She thought of Draco again - as she did about fifty times a day - and wondered again what the hell she was going to do.

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and she grimaced and went to answer it.

"Surprise!" Draco shouted, holding up two bags of Chinese food. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I got a bit of everything."

"How thoughtful of you," Hermione said, and stepped back to let him in. "And it's from a Muggle shop too! I'm impressed."

Draco grinned and got two plates out, beginning to set their meal up.

"Before you do that, I should probably warn you," Hermione said, "Ron's in the other room."

Immediately Draco froze, the smile vanishing from his face instantly as he hurriedly began gathering himself together. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry, I'll go."

"No, no, don't," Hermione said, and proceeded to explain the situation. Draco's face grew redder and redder as she described what had happened, and he let out a deep shuddering breath when she finished.

"That idiotic Weasel needs to get what's coming to him," he said. "Leaving his family and girlfriend to worry for days while he's off on a drinking spree? What are we, sixteen? He should know better than that by now. And to think, he's been badgering you to have children - he's not even grown up himself yet."

"He's wrong, I'll admit," Hermione wavered, "but I'm in the wrong too. You know why."

Drco gave her a sharp glance, and immediately grabbed her hands and pulled her closer to him. "That was not wrong. No, you listen to me. You are neglacted, and you are unhappy. He doesn't treat you right. You reached out to someone who you feel happy and comfortable with, because you no longer feel that way with him. Nobody - nobody - can blame you for that. I would have been at fault, if I had let you carry on, but I didn't. We didn't even kiss. You, Hermione, are NOT at fault here, okay?"

She could only look at him and nod. The intensity in his gaze, fixated upon her, was startling.

"Good," he said. "Now, back to not mentioning it. What do you want from these boxes?"

They sat and ate Chinese food, and laughed at a comedy show on the television. Hermione told Draco about the new book she was reading, and Draco told her that his new plans for a potion were about to come to fruition and she would be let in on the secret very soon, during the actual manufacturing process. Crookshanks, lured in by the scent of chicken, snuggled between them and occasionally stole a morsel from Hermione's plate, despite her batting him away. Everything was so easy, and natural, the way it should be, Hermione couldn't help thinking, and had to mentally keep resisting the urge to make an advance on him. It wasn't that she was actively trying to - only that it felt completely normal that she would lean over and kiss him. Of course, she didn't, but the feeling of safety, comfort and deep attraction that one experiences in relationships was there, between them that night.

Ron didn't stir all evening. Hermione went to check on him after a few hours, but he was in exactly the same position she had left him in, breathing comfortably and sleeping it off. She took some spare pillows and blankets out of her cupboard and left him to himself, shutting the door behind her.

"I still can't believe you're sleeping on the couch," Draco commented as he saw her bringing her bedding in. "You know we have about thirty spare bedrooms at Malfoy Manor, you could take your pick."

"That's really sweet of you," Hermione said, "but someone needs to be here to look after him. What if he has problems in the night?"

"Then it's his own fault and we should leave him to his fate," Draco scoffed, earning him a playful hit in the shoulder. "Fine. But I'm not letting you do it more than once. After tonight, if he still needs to be here, then you're sleeping at the Manor. It's wrong to let a lady sleep on anything but the bed."

"Gosh, where were those manners back at Hogwarts when you were doing impressions of me at the Slytherin table?" Hermione joked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Can you blame me? You looked like you had a rocket up your ass in Transfiguration every time McGonagall asked a question."

"Charming."

"I better leave you to it, I suppose," Draco said, eyeing her as she began to set up her pillows on the end of the couch.

"Stay if you like, by all means," Hermione said, "but I for one am going to sleep."

"D'you mind if I just watch the end of this?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the television, which was halfway through a rerun of Pirates of the Caribbean. "I'll go when it's over."

"No problem," Hermione said sleepily. Truth was, she really didn't mind Draco being there, and it was somewhat of a comfort to feel a warm body next to her when she slept - it had been a while since she and Ron had slept in the same bed, given the problems they had been having. Crookshanks, seeing there would be no more room for him, jumped haughtily off the sofa and curled into a ball by the fire.

She dozed off feeling Draco's warm legs next to her feet, and awoke the next morning feeling more refreshed than she had in a while, fully tucked in and with the plates washed up, the room tidied and the remainder of the Chinese waiting next to the microwave to be reheated for breakfast.

She was touched by Draco's thoughtfulness and resolved to call him and thank him later on. Remembering that Ron was in her bed, she wandered over to the bedroom door and knocked tentatively, letting herself in. "Are you feeling better?"

Ron was sleeping soundly, but cracked one eye open slightly at the sound of her voice. "Mmmm."

"Well, you're alive at least," Hermione commented. "I'll leave you to it. Sleep it off."

Ron made no response, but snuggled further into his pillows and shut his eye again. Hermione snorted and went to make breakfast.

The next few days passed uneventfully enough. Ron continued to rest, occasionally waking up to eat and drink, or use the toilet. Hermione did not take up Draco's request to stay at Malfoy Manor, more out of a vague sense of guilt concerning her increasing and disturbing feelings for Draco than actually not wanting to - sleeping on the couch really was beginning to cramp up her back. She knew that she and Ron needed to sit down and talk very soon about everything. She still wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but what both Draco and Harry had reiterated to her rang true. She wasn't happy, and perhaps her feelings for Draco were just a manifestation of that unhappiness, attached to a person who made her feel wanted again. Before she made any rash decisions, she had to talk with Ron and see if they could give it a final chance - before she threw away a three-year-long relationship.

The chance to talk came on Friday night. She had just finished a mega-long day at work, coming home at 8pm after having to deliver a stack of completed paperwork to the Minister's office. She got in and threw her coat and bag on the sofa, ready for a nice evening in with takeaway food and a hot cup of tea. It was not to be, though, as for the first time in days, Ron cautiously poked his head out of the bedroom door. "'Mione? That you?"

"Ron! You're up!" Hermione said, excited to see him finally properly awake. "How are you feeling?"

Ron cleared his throat, his voice still very hoarse. "Better. Thanks."

There was a slightly awkward pause as neither of them really knew what to say. Ron shuffled over to her and gave her a hug, pulling her into him, but she didn't respond, unsure how she felt, or where to go from there, and still dying to put the kettle on and sit down.

"I'm sorry. About everything," he said, his eyes apologetic and his stance dejected. "I was an idiot to yell at you like that. I hate Malfoy, but he's not worth losing you over. I have no excuse other than that I don't find it easy to let things go. I just had to get away after that, and...well...you know the rest."

"Yes, well," Hermione said, busying herself about the kitchen, "we have a lot of things to talk about, Ron. Some things have happened between us that we need to discuss. But I have had a really, really long day, and right now I just want to sit down and relax for a bit. Why don't you go and take a shower, and we can talk about everything when you're done?"

Ron agreed, his dejected pose lasting all the way into the bathroom. Hermione sat on the sofa, nursing her cup, strangely nervous, her stomach tingling with butterflies as she mulled over the situation in her head and considered what she would say to Ron. It was clear that things needed to change between them, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to break it off with him, or try to make it work. She supposed it depended on what he said during their chat.

All too soon, Ron could be heard emerging from the shower, and Hermione drew a deep breath and readied herself. Her heart was fluttering and she felt slightly sick; it was the same feeling she tended to get before exams or big presentations. Her boyfriend appeared from the bedroom, hair tousled and wearing only his jeans.

"So - what did you want to talk about?" he asked, sitting beside her with an anxious look on his face.

"Well," Hermione began, "you and I...I think we both know it's not working like it used to, Ron. I'm constantly working which makes you unhappy, and that makes you angry so you shout, then you feel bad about it and go off and do - well, what you did last weekend. This vicious cycle has to stop, Ron."

"I know," he said in a low tone. "I feel so bad about what happened, 'Mione - all of it - I'm so sorry. I promise I can change and stop doing these stupid, immature things, if it's for the sake of us."

"We shouldn't have to change for each other," Hermione said. "Maybe this has just run its course, and we need to find other people who can love us for who we are, unmodified and uncompromised."

"No," Ron said vehemently. "I want to be with you. Look, I know you don't like this idea, but hear me out. What if we got married?"

Hermione opened her mouth to decline, but Ron held up a hand. "No - let me finish. The reason I'm unhappy, and why I go out and do these stupid things, is because I'm insecure. I feel like you're not fully committed to me, that you're keeping your options open by not marrying me. I know it might sound stupid, but that hurts me inside, that you don't feel like you want to commit to me properly. I feel like I'm not good enough."

"Ron...it's not you. I don't want to marry you because I don't want to have children and give up my life. And no matter what you say, I know that's what you want, but it's not what I want."

"Look," Ron said, "yes, at some point in the future, I want us to have kids. But I swear, if you agree to marry me, I won't ask. I'll let you decide when you're ready. I won't push you. This will just make me feel a whole lot more secure, knowing that you love me enough to want to spend your life with me."

Hermione frowned. She really didn't know what to say - she didn't feel the rush of happiness you're supposed to get when someone proposes. Instead she felt a growing pressure and a lingering sense of responsibility and guilt. But looking at Ron's pleading eyes, she couldn't bring herself to upset him, and before she knew it, her mouth formed the word, "okay."

"You'll do it? You'll marry me?" Ron asked, the look on his face brightening into pure joy.

"...Yes," Hermione said, feeling a slight sinking sensation in her stomach.

Ron kissed her and then threw his arms around her, and she responded, mentally kicking herself for not saying something else, anything else except a straightforward 'yes'. She supposed it wouldn't be too bad. She cared for Ron immensely, and maybe there wasn't that passion or devotion there any more, but there never was in married couples - they would fit right in with the crowd. She tried to comfort herself with these vague thoughts amid Ron's excited babbling.

"We could have a double wedding! Me, you, Harry and Gin!" he was saying. "Mum would love it, her two youngest getting married at the same time! We can start looking at places to live - this is so great, 'Mione, I'm so happy."

"Good - me too," she forced out. "Look, Ron, I really did have a long day, and I'm tired. Can we celebrate this tomorrow?"

"Sure, sure," he said, still with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll get us some food, why don't you go and have a relax in the bath?"

"That actually sounds lovely," Hermione replied, and went into the bathroom, leaving Ron to order a takeaway for them. As she filled the bath with water and bubbles, and began to strip down, the thought occurred to her that Ron would probably want to move in now - or at least, get a place together with her. She didn't mind it so much, except that she would no longer be able to have her cosy nights in with Draco - she was sure that Ron would kick up a fuss, no matter how much he said he would change now they were engaged. She would miss those evenings lounging with her friend on the sofa and laughing at the TV.

She sank into the bath and closed her eyes, eager to forget about the events of the day and just relax. It bothered her that she wasn't excited about getting engaged - but perhaps that was just the result of a long day and a lingering doubt that this would actually change anything at all, except the pressure on her to quit her job. Certainly it was nothing to do with the vague and undefined flutter of excitement and arousal she experienced whenever she was around Draco - nothing to do with that at all. Or so she tried to convince herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi all. Thanks for all the favourites, follows and reviews, I'm really chuffed with the responses. This is where the plot begins to thicken; I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

The next few days were hectic for Hermione. She was dragged around the Burrow and presented to every member of the Weasley family as Ron's fiancee. She smiled and hugged everyone and acted the part perfectly, the unresolved feeling of disappointment and wrongness still lingering in her stomach. Ginny got very upset at the thought of a double wedding, but she soothed her friend and said she had no intention of them marrying this year, which cheered her up and got her talking about the engagement again. Harry watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, and she knew that although Ginny was oblivious, he was aware she wasn't entirely happy with the arrangement.

She managed to avoid being alone with him for the whole day, though, evading his attempts to corner her. She didn't want to discuss it. Not yet, at least, when it was all so fresh and she still hadn't figured everything out in her head. The helpless feeling of not being entirely in control was beginning to get to her, and she was starting to wish this whole mess of emotion would just go away.

Ron was now clingier than ever. He would not leave her alone for a moment outside of work; he stayed at her apartment every night - though she had refused to have sex with him each night, feeling awkward and guilty at the thought of it - called her during her work hours and met her for lunch every day. She had not seen Draco for their regular lunch meetings since the announcement, because every spare moment she had, she found Ron hanging off her arm. She knew that he was excited about their engagement, but honestly, she needed time away from him. The nagging worries she had about this arrangement were not assuaged by this thought. What would it be like when they were living together and he was there ALL the time?

Rescue came in the form of Harry's upcoming birthday party. Since he had had no celebrations living with the Dursleys in his childhood, every year Molly insisted on putting on a huge party at the Burrow and inviting everyone they knew. Hermione was looking forward to it, because it would be a chance to get away from Rom's suffocating company and see some of her friends - she had not seen Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, Padma or Parvati since the incident in the Three Broomsticks, and she wanted to talk to them again on happier terms. Harry himself, who was still trying to get her to talk about the engagement with him, would be busy with his guests, and she would be able to relax and enjoy herself and forget about this whole cloud of worry that seemed to have formed over her head in the last couple of months. It would also be a chance to see Draco and talk to him about the engagement. She had not seen him for over a week, which was very unusual and she found herself missing his company and his wit. She had never found another person who was quite so much on her wavelength, and she was sure he would be able to help her figure out her emotional crisis. Harry meant well, but he wouldn't be able to grasp the depth of her complicated state at the moment, and she knew that Draco would understand in a heartbeat.

The day of the party rolled around, and Hermione turned up at the Burrow with Ron in tow at 7:00pm. Despite her insistence that she didn't need an escort, and that he lived at the Burrow anyway, Ron had come over to her flat an hour ago and sat around while she dressed, claiming that he didn't want to wait at home as he would be forced to help set everything up. Hermione was wearing one of her smartest, most sophisticated dresses and Ron was in dress robes - thankfully, nice ones he had bought with the money from his wages, instead of the horrific ones he had worn to the Yule Ball.

Ginny flung open the door, beaming to see her best friend and brother, and told them that most of the guests were beginning to arrive. She led them out to the yard, where fairy lights had been set up in the trees surrounding the open area, and a tent had been put up, much like they had done for Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was an abundance of food and drink, and people in black tie and dress robes mingled inside the marquee. There was no band, but a set of magically charmed musical instruments played some soft jazz in the background. Everything looked perfect.

Ginny was chatting excitedly about how they had finally chosen a venue for the wedding. She had been fighting Molly on the topic for weeks, claiming that she didn't want to have it at home, but in a nice old stately home somewhere in the country. Molly, of course, had been adamantly against the idea, and the ensuing arguments had been the hot topic in the Weasley household for a while. "Mum's finally agreed, though, and she says I can have it in a grand old house, as long as it's not too far away from here. I found a gorgeous place about thirty miles away, and we're going to see it next week, but it looks like it might be the one!"

"That's great, Gin," Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you and Molly sorted it out, I thought we were going to get to the wedding day and still be arguing about where to have it!"

"Tell me about it," her friend grinned as the three of them entered the marquee. "Well, I better go and find my fiance. Help yourself to food and drinks, and come say hi to Mum in a bit, she'll want to see you."

"Will do, thanks Gin," Hermione said, and watched her dart off into the throng.

"So," Ron said, turning to Hermione, "What do you want to do? Shall we have a dance?"

"I think I'm going to grab some food," Hermione said, "I haven't had anything to eat since lunch. Why don't you go and find Neville or Dean?"

"No, it's okay, I'll come with you," Ron replied, and she inwardly sighed as he took her arm again and pulled her over to the food table at the back.

Hermione chose her nibbles and took a glass of champagne from a tray brought around by a grinning George. "Alright there, Hermione?"

"Yes, George, great, thanks, how are you?" she replied.

"Well, apart from being forced into slave labour by Mother dearest," he gestured at the tray, "not bad at all. Oh - she's looking. Better not chat, got to get back to work."

Hermione laughed as George hurried away. Molly was indeed casting a sharp eye about the room, ensuring that her guests were well catered for. "George really needs to move out," Hermione remarked to Ron, "he's the only one living here now, besides you, so he gets stitched up doing jobs like this!"

"Well, I don't really live here much anymore, either," Ron said, "luckily, or I'd be doing what he's doing right now!"

Hermione cracked a smile at that. She was glad to find that Ron still had the ability to make her smile.

"Shall we go and find the Gryffindors?" she asked him, and he nodded. They weaved their way through the crowd of people to find a little group of their old schoolmates congregated in the corner of the tent. Dean, Seamus, Parvati and Padma were there, and Harry, who greeted them jovially when they arrived.

"Here's the other happy couple!" he grinned and raised his glass.

"Oh, don't Harry, tonight is about you!" Hermione exclaimed, and hugged him. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," he said, and gestured around. "Molly's outdone herself this year, don't you think?"

"It's magnificent," she agreed, "though I can't help but feel it's probably intended to convince Ginny to have her wedding here instead!"

"Oh Merlin," Harry said, rolling his eyes, "don't even get me started on that - we'll be here all night."

"How are you, Hermione?" Parvati piped up, eyeing Ron a little warily.

"I'm fine, thanks, Parvati," she smiled, knowing what her old roommate was referring to, and the other girl relaxed a bit.

None of them explicitly mentioned the previous meet-up, but the atmosphere in the group was a bit tenser than usual, and nobody could look Ron properly in the eye, except Harry. It was clear that they were still a bit uneasy, after seeing his outburst of temper. Ron got more and more uncomfortable the more they talked to the Gryffindors, and Hermione silently willed him to leave the group so she could talk with her friends and not have him there making it awkward. It was not to be though, for after a while he drew her away and asked if they could dance.

Resigning herself to leaving along with him, Hermione excused herself reluctantly from the group and went to the dance floor. Ron pulled her excessively close and put his hand on her bum, pushing their bodies together as they danced. She couldn't help but be reminded of the last time she had danced with anyone - with Draco at the Memorial Ball - and how gentlemanly he had been, and how smooth and natural their dancing had felt. Ron had two left feet, and though she had always known this about him, now it irked her, just as everything about him seemed to irk her nowadays. She wondered when that had happened.

Just when it seemed like there would be no escape, and she would be resigned to another evening spent unhappily in the company of Ron, a smooth voice interrupted them and her heart skipped a beat. "May I butt in?"

"Draco!" she detached herself from Ron and hugged him, and was surprised to find him hugging her back just as fiercely. He had never been much of a fierce hugger. "I didn't see you arrive!"

"I only just got here, actually," he said, "got held up at the office. My new potion recipe is finally finished, and I was putting the finishing touches on it before I sent it off to the regulatory committee."

"Oh, wow!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't even know what it does yet, I haven't seen you all week!"

"I know," he replied with a hint of sadness. "I wondered where you'd got to."

"She's been busy with me most of the week, actually," Ron said, eyeing Draco up rudely. "Have you not heard? We're engaged now!"

Draco's eyes widened in shock and surprise for the briefest second, focusing on Hermione, but he masked it quickly with a veneer of calm. "How nice for you."

"It is, actually," Ron went on. "So she'll be busy with me from now on - she might not have time to meet you for your little potion lunches anymore."

Hermione glanced at Draco, and then back at Ron. "Don't tell me what I will or will not have time to do, Ronald," she scolded. "If I want to meet Draco for lunch, then I shall."

"But you'll be my wife," Ron retorted, "you can't go against what I say."

"I assure you that she can and she will," Draco said. "If you think for a moment that this woman is going to do anything you tell her, unless she wants to, you're sorely mistaken."

"Indeed," Hermione added.

"Siding with him, as usual," Ron said to her, sounding hurt, and then sneered at Draco. "Me and my FIANCEE are going to find our friends now," he announced, "and we probably won't be seeing you, Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't take it any more. "No, Ron, we're not," she said. "You go. I am going inside the house, and I'm going to sit down and have a moment to myself, because right now your attitude is driving me up the wall."

Ron looked at her, and then back at Draco, who had one eyebrow raised, watching the two of them, and then back at her. "Fine," he snarled. "But we'll talk about this at home."

She glared at him and whirled around, with an apologetic look at Draco, and walked away from the tent back up to the darkened house. She could not stand him for another second - the second Draco had come into the picture, he had returned to the angry, snarling, possessive person he had been before the engagement. She should have known he would never change - should have realised that he was not capable of becoming something different. He would always hate Draco - and if she was honest with herself, she knew that he probably had good reason for being so possessive when it came to the blond man.

She sat down in the dark kitchen, tears threatening to burst forth from her eyes, and remembered another night just like this one, back in fourth year, where Ron had upset her so much that she had sat in this same position, in a beautiful dress like this one, and cried. He had ruined so many nights for her, and she found herself wishing she had the strength to push him away once and for all - they weren't working, they weren't connecting, and she found herself dreading having to spend the rest of her life with him.

"Hey," a small voice issued from the doorway, and she looked up to see Draco peering round the door. "Thought I'd come and see how you were."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione said, trying to smile even through her sobbing, "how did it come to this?"

He entered the room, looking devilishly handsome in his black tux and bow tie, the same one he had worn to the Memorial Ball two months before. He sat down on a chair next to her and took her hand. "I'm here to talk. You know that."

"We used to be happy, you know," Hermione said. "In the beginning. We were young and in love and thought we would be forever. I just don't know how it went from that...to now."

"When we mature, we change," Draco said mutely. "Everything changes."

"You're the best example of that," Hermione replied, and everything was quiet for a moment.

"Let's go for a walk," Draco announced. "Not back to the party - it's suffocating in there - let's go round the front of the house and walk into the woods by Ottery St. Catchpole. I think the fresh air would do you some good."

Hermione agreed, and he took her arm gently and escorted her out of the empty house, and into the warm July evening. They walked in silence out of the front gate and into the woods, threading between the trees, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Hermione spoke up.

"I didn't want to get engaged."

"I know," Draco said quietly.

"I just couldn't say no."

"I know."

"He promised he would change - he would stop being so angry, and jealous, and childish if he felt more secure, knowing that I was committed to him. But he hasn't changed at all, you saw that tonight - and I don't know if I can cope with an entire lifetime of that." Herrmione stopped walking.

Draco turned to face her. "There is your problem. You shouldn't be talking about changing, and coping, and security. A real relationship is about love and trust between two people, and all the happiness and other stuff comes with it. If you're talking about coping with him, then you're not going to be happy."

Hermione knew this. At the bottom of her heart, she didn't want to marry Ron, and she knew that.

Draco went on. "You know, when we first started talking again, I knew that something was different about you. When I'd seen you in our final year, granted I wasn't paying much attention, but you were happy with him, as far as I could tell, you never had that sadness behind your eyes that you do now. I noticed it from the first moment I saw you again; that however happy you're pretending to be, inside you're lonely. And I've been trying my damned hardest to fix it."

Hermione said nothing, but her heart started pounding in her chest and her throat suddenly felt dry.

"I thought I could make it better. I thought I could make that haunted look go away - I never wanted to see you sad again, not after what happened at the Manor - with Bellatrix - I felt responsible, in a way, and I wanted to make you happy again," Draco said with a bitter tone. "And now, you're one of my closest friends, and I feel so helpless." He gritted his teeth and balled his hand into a fist. "You're so kind, and gentle that you don't want to say no to the Weasel, because you can't bear to hurt his feelings. It's so you, Hermione. To sacrifice your own happiness for the happiness of others. But it's not fair for you to do that anymore; not to yourself, and not to me."

Hermione was confused now - he was getting closer, and she could feel heat radiating off him.

"I've seen the way you look at me. Don't think I don't know. And by Merlin, you've no idea how much I want it too. It was so hard to say no, that night when we nearly did...but I had to, Hermione, I had to for the sake of everything we've built. It was all wrong, then. But being away from you, this last week, knowing that you're unhappy sharing your bed with another man - with the Weasel, who treats you like dirt instead of the goddess you are - it was torture, Hermione, and I don't know how much longer I can keep this going."

He was right in front of her now, her back pressed against a tree. She couldn't speak or breathe. His deep, stormy grey eyes met her brown ones, and the intensity and passion in his gaze was more than she could take.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I have to do this. I have to show you what you're going to miss, if you can't find the courage to end this engagement. I'm going to show you what your life could be like. I don't care if it's wrong - not anymore - because I can't hold myself back."

His intense gaze transferred for a brief second from her eyes down to her lips, and then they closed, long eyelashes fluttering shut as he leaned in to kiss her. She met him halfway, the gradual accumulation of lust and longing in her heart welling up at that moment into a haze of passion. The kiss was like nothing she'd ever experienced with Ron - the way he held her, and caressed her was enough to make her breathless. His lips moved against hers, tasting purely and deliciously of Draco, and it felt so right, so perfect, and her heart turned into a firework in her chest.

Gently, inquisitively, his tongue pressed against her lips, and then they were locked together, devouring each other heatedly and passionately, and he pressed her back into the tree as she ran her hands through his silky, beautiful hair. The kiss became more urgent, more desperate as weeks of repressed feelings came pouring in from both sides. It was explosive, and wonderful, and as they drew away, gasping, Hermione could only find herself wishing that it had never had to end.

He looked at her, his hair messy and his face red, and she felt like she could drown in his eyes, now dark with lust. "You can't tell me it's anything like that with him."

She shook her head, unable to formulate words to explain just how much that kiss had meant to her.

"I can't make your decision for you, Hermione," Draco said gently, his hand stroking her face and twirling a strand of her tousled hair between his fingers. "If you decide that I'm what you want, I'll be happier than any man on earth, because I know that you are what I want, wholeheartedly and completely. If you decide not...well, I can deal with that when it comes. But Merlin, knowing that I can feel like this just kissing you, I can only imagine..." he tailed off, breathing heavily.

"I can't be with him," Hermione said in a small voice. "I know I can't. I've known it all along, really, that we're not compatible, that deep down, I don't love him like I used to - like I should. And with you, I feel so comfortable, and Merlin, the things I want to do to you - but I didn't know if you felt the same way, or even if what I was feeling was real."

"And now?" he whispered.

"After that? How could I ever be happy with any other man? You're it for me, Draco. That is, if you want to be?" she finished with a hopeful smile.

"I'm not even going to answer a stupid question like that," he responded, and leaned down to kiss her again, more gently this time, more seductively, and ran his long, sensual fingers through her tangled locks. She couldn't believe that this man, this Adonis would consider her worthy of his attention, and she responded with all the passion in her heart, sure now that here, in his arms, was where she was meant to be.

He drew away once more, and stepped back. "We can't do this anymore, Hermione. You're still engaged, and we have to stop now, or I'm not going to be able to stop later and I don't want to do something we'll regret. I want to be honourable about this - as far as I can - and show the Weasel some respect."

"You just kissed his fiancee after walking her out alone in the woods," Hermione joked, her eyes twinkling with humour.

"Well, you were going to marry that idiot, I had to do something drastic," Draco said in response, causing her to laugh, her tears from earlier completely forgotten. She marvelled at just how happy she felt around him, and at the feeling of floating on a cloud, which she had not experienced since she was a silly teenager first starting to date Ron.

"We'd better head back," Draco said, the reluctance heavy in his voice as he looked at her wistfully.

"Yes - Ron will be looking for me by now," Hermione said with a sinking feeling in her heart.

"No, no, don't get that look on your face again," Draco put a finger under her chin. "It'll be fine, ok? I promise."

"We can't do this straightaway - you know that right?" Hermione said in a voice barely more than a whisper. "I have to give it time after...well, you know. People will talk - it will be all over the papers."

"I know," Draco said in a strained voice. "But I can be patient, if you can."

"I'm engaged to a Weasley. I have infinite patience," Hermione said, and Draco barked out a laugh.

"We're all good then," he said, his voice returning to that low seductive tone and his eyes darkening again. "But you know it's going to be all over the papers anyway, right? Gryffindor's Golden Girl with an ex-Death Eater Malfoy man? Skeeter will be all over that shit."

"She won't if she knows what's good for her," Hermione said, and as they walked back, she told Draco how she had trapped Skeeter in a jar in fourth year and blackmailed her with her secret. Draco, of course, had known that she was an Animagus, and laughed out loud as Hermione regaled the story.

All too soon, though, they were back at the Burrow, and reluctantly Hermione put some distance between herself and Draco, letting her hand drift away from his arm and giving him a last, passionate glance before they arrived at the door. Draco nodded at her and left, walking round the side of the house back towards the marquee, obviously not keen for Ron to find out that they had been together at all - even if it had been innocent, Ron would flip out. Hermione took a deep breath and entered the house.

For Draco's sake, and for her own, she needed to end this engagement. Tonight.


	6. Chapter 6

Ron was not inside the house, and for that Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She did not want to cause a huge scene at Harry's party, and intended to leave with him before she broke the news. It was not fair to Harry and to Molly who had put so much effort into this wonderful event to have her spoil it all. She took a deep breath and sat down alone in the kitchen, turning over her thoughts and wondering what she was going to say.

Now that she was out of the heat of the moment, she felt awful about what she and Draco had done. She had never been a cheater - she had always thought that her morals were higher than that. As it turned out, though, she wasn't above snogging another man in a forest while her fiancee was two hundred yards away, and that sickened her slightly to her stomach. True, Ron had been hurtful and obstinate towards her, but that was no excuse for her behaviour - and she hadn't even had that much to drink. If she was honest, she was disappointed in her own actions, and grateful that they had stopped when they did. She would never have been able to forgive herself if it had gone any further.

That kiss, though! She would never forget it as long as she lived. The pure bliss that had erupted within her just at Draco's tender touch...she knew that this was right. She was doing the right thing. And she was just a little bit glad that he had had the courage to show her how good they could be together, for she didn't know if she would have seen it on her own - or had the strength to go through with breaking Ron's heart, without being one hundred percent sure of her own feelings, and his.

At that moment, Ron entered the house, a frown etched on his face as he looked around the dark room. "Hermione? Are you in here?"

"I'm here," she replied in a small voice, her fingers nervously fiddling with her dress.

"Have you calmed down now?" he asked in an arrogant tone.

She swallowed her temper, which began to rise again at the note in his voice, and smiled sweetly. "Yes, I'm fine now. But I want to go home, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I was going to say the same thing," Ron said, surprising her, but she didn't comment.

"Let's go and say our goodbyes to everyone, then," she said, making to leave the house, but Ron grabbed her arm.

"Don't worry. I told them you're not feeling well and that we need to go home." The tone of his voice had turned steely now, and she acquiesced without an argument.

"Okay. Let's go then," she said, and Apparated home, landing outside her flat. She fiddled around for her keys as Ron appeared behind her, and let them both in, waving her wand and illuminating the cosy room. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, Hermione, we need to have a chat."

"Alright," she said, getting worried now. What could he possibly have to say to her that was so urgent?

"Look," he said, pulling her over to the sofa and sitting beside her. "I love you, 'Mione, but this isn't working out. You don't listen to me, you don't respect me and honestly, I don't think you even love me anymore." He said it bluntly, without a hint of emotion.

She didn't respond, but tears began to fill her eyes as she realised he was going to beat her to it. She was not prepared, though, for what came out of his mouth next.

"I have to confess that I've been unhappy for a while with this relationship. A couple of months ago, when you were working so much to get the Memorial Ball ready - well, I got upset, and since then I've been sort of seeing someone."

"Sort of?" she mouthed, confused. "What?"

"Well, you see, you were working so much, I didn't even know if we were still really together. I went out one night and happened to meet Astoria Greengrass - you remember, Daphne's sister from a couple of years below us. Well, we got talking about old times, and she was telling me how much she admired me after what I did in the war, and one thing led to another. We've been seeing each other on and off ever since." The words tumbled out of Ron's mouth.

Hermione was flabbergasted. She had been feeling guilty for kissing Draco tonight when for two whole months, this scumbag had been sleeping with another woman?

"Thing is, 'Mione," Ron went on earnestly, "she's not as good as you. She's a bit thick, really. She only cares about wealth and fame and fashion, and I think she's only interested in me because she wants to get at my war money. But she's so obedient, she'll do anything I tell her to, and she respects my decisions, and I think a good wife should do that - but you don't. I tried getting you to change, to be better, and I even told Astoria to back off once we got engaged so I could spend more time with you and try to work it out. You just don't act like a good wife, though, disrespecting me and gallivanting around with Malfoy, and that's the problem, I don't think marrying you will make me happy at all. So we need to end it."

"You know what, Ronald," Hermione said in a low, dangerous voice, "I really thought, when I agreed to marry you, that giving it a second chance would work. For both of us. Because you see, I'm not happy either, and I've known it for a long, long time, that this - this thing we have - isn't right. I don't want to be pushed into a corner and forced to give up my career and my life, because that isn't how things work in the twenty-first century."

"So you agree," Ron said, looking relieved.

"I don't agree with anything you say, Ronald, except that this is over," Hermione's temper was rising and this time she let it. She stood up and turned away from him, pacing the room and trying to take it all in. "While I was working late in the evening, trying to secure my future, you were off sleeping with some other slag? And then you have the nerve to attack ME about spending time with Draco?"

"Well, a man can play," Ron blustered, "but women shouldn't disrespect their men."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. "I knew you were into all this old-world crap, about a wife's place in the home and a woman's proper role, but NEVER for one second, Ronald Weasley, did I think you'd stoop so low as to throw that bullshit in my face! "A man can play"?! What the fuck is that?" She knew she was out of control now - the swear words only came out when she was really agitated - but she didn't care. "You know what? You can have Astoria, and you can both enjoy each other. I'm done with this, and I'm done with you. I was going to end it tonight too, and you know why? You've been mistreating me and neglecting me for so long, that I developed feelings for someone else. I kissed him tonight, and I felt so guilty I couldn't handle it, and was going to break it off with you straightaway. And then I hear that you have been sneaking around behind my back for MONTHS without a shred of remorse! Get the FUCK out of my flat, Ronald Weasley, and don't you EVER come back!" She whipped her wand out and pointed it right at his face.

Crookshanks, disturbed from his slumber by the raised voices, ambled out of the bedroom and surveyed the scene before him. He had never much liked Ron and tended to stay hidden away when he was in the flat, but now his hackles rose in defense of his mistress and he hissed.

Ron's mouth was opening and closing like a fish. "You kissed someone? Well, I think we can both guess who that was. See, this is what I'm talking about, you have no respect for me. Even after I told you that you were not to go near him, you sneak off and disobey me, and make a fool out of me at that! Well, fine, if that's the way you want it, to be Malfoy's slut, then I'm leaving. I'll be with a woman who properly appreciates me, and you can be with your precious Ferret." He spat the last word contemptuously.

"Don't - you - DARE - speak - to - me - like - that!" Hermione yelled, inching closer and closer with her wand raised, as Ron backed slowly towards the door. "Draco Malfoy is ten times the man you are EVER going to be! Go and be with your slut of a girlfriend and I hope you both rot together!"

With that, she backed him up far enough that he was out of the flat, and slammed the door shut in his face. She heard him shout back at her from the other side of the door: "Don't you dare come crawling back after this, Hermione. I won't be having any of Malfoy's sloppy seconds."

She ignored him, fuming. To think that she had been feeling guilty about a kiss - and he had been having an affair since May. Well, she wouldn't waste any more tears on him. He was nothing more than a waste of space, to use those simple, lame excuses about her not respecting him and not being dutiful and obedient. He was not the Ron Weasley she had grown up with, not anymore; that boy would never have treated her with such a double standard. Well, she didn't care. She was through. Crookshanks pushed his head against her hand, and she stroked him absently, glad of his company.

Briefly she considered owling Draco, but then thought against it. He would come right over, and in her emotional state she didn't know what might happen between them. Though the thought was exciting, she didn't want any relationship she may have with Draco to begin from this mess of emotional baggage that was scattered around tonight. And she couldn't imagine that the reactions of the Weasleys would be very good if she had another man round the same night she and Ron broke up - as much as she detested him, she still thought a lot of his family and hoped that they would still remain friendly with her after this. She would sleep, and clear her head, and go to work in the morning like she always did, and decide tomorrow the best course of action to take.

It didn't take long for the shit to hit the fan. By the next morning, she'd had three missed messages from Ginny. Thankfully, the young redhead was not blaming her for anything, but just wanted to talk, and suggested that they go out at lunchtime to a caterer she was thinking of hiring for the wedding, so they could have a chat. Hermione didn't know if she would answer her phone - she usually only turned it on when she wanted to call someone - so she resolved to send an owl once she reached the office letting her know she would go. More than anything, she didn't want to lose Ginny and Harry over this, and it was important to let them know she still wanted to be their friend.

She didn't hear from Draco and for that she was glad. No doubt he had heard, for she had no doubt that Ron would have run straight to the Prophet and told them the engagement was over; he loved the limelight, however he managed to get it. But Draco had kept back and given her her space, for which she was grateful; she was confused and overwhelmed when he was around at the moment, and she wouldn't be able to think straight. She would go to see him soon enough, when all the mess had passed and they could talk properly about a future together. She almost laughed at herself, despite everything. If she could have told her fourteen-year-old self that in the future she would be breaking off an engagement with Ron and in fact, be looking forward to planning a future with Draco Malfoy, she would have had a fit. It's funny how life works out, she thought wryly as she sat down at her desk to begin another day.

By lunchtime, she was glad to have her talk with Ginny to look forward to. She had had mounds of paperwork piled on her desk, everything from an upcoming Auror mission she had to personally authorise (which meant reading through the credentials of every Auror on the outgoing list, and sorting out a committee to organise Portkeys, tents and supplies) to a hearing that would be happening in the upcoming week concerning the reshuffling of the Wizengamot, which happened every ten years. Having such a broad job was very exciting, because it meant that she got to see and understand how everything worked throughout the entire Ministry, but it also meant that she had a lot of work on her plate literally all the time, memos and owls flying in from every department, leaving almost no time to relax.

Ginny arrived to take her out at half past one. She gladly dropped her quill and left it where it lay, grabbed her bag and left, eager to leave the giant pile of work behind her and compartmentalise it until later on, when she had dealt with her pressing personal issues. Ginny seemed in a good mood, excited to try out the caterer and see what she could put on the menu for her wedding.

"So, you know what I'm going to ask," she said once they had sat down.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "It wasn't working, Gin - I think you knew that too, as much as we all wanted it to be otherwise."

"He told us you kissed Malfoy," Ginny said quietly. "Is it true?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I have no excuse, other than Ron being an ass, and getting caught up in the moment. I was feeling vulnerable and upset, and Draco was there being a perfect gentleman." She left out the part about his admitting his own feelings for her, unwilling to impart that private piece of information just yet. "It just sort of happened."

"Is that why you broke up, then? Because you kissed Malfoy?" Ginny sounded hurt, but to her credit, was determined to hear all of Hermione's side of the story before she made a judgment. Considering it was her brother on the other end of all this, Hermione had to admire her.

"No - well, not really," Hermione said. "I'd known for a while that I wasn't particularly happy, and this whole engagement was a way of giving it another chance, for both of us I think. But I wasn't what Ron wanted and he wasn't what I wanted in the end, and no amount of trying is going to change that." She paused, and then continued with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "For me, kissing Draco was the catalyst I needed to make me realise that I had to end it. Ron had the same idea, though, apparently, since he kindly mentioned to me last night that he has been sleeping with Astoria Greengrass for the last two months, and was intending to break it off with me so he could be with her instead."

"No way!" Ginny's mouth hung open.

"Yes," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "He informed me that he had been sleeping with her on and off, because she admired him so much, but that he wasn't sure about her so he decided to give me another try. When that didn't work out as he hoped, he told me that he'd decided on Astoria and he was going to break up with me - which was when I admitted that I'd kissed Draco."

"He's such a man pig," Ginny said, settling back in her chair and crossing her arms. "I'll never call him a brother of mine again."

"Don't feel like you have to cut him off for my sake, Gin," Hermione said, though it took all the maturity she could muster. "He's family after all, and he didn't cheat on you."

"No, but you're family too," Ginny said firmly, "and to go behind your back with a slag like that for months and not say a word - and then come over to the Burrow ranting and raving about you and Malfoy - that's hypocrisy I will not accept."

Hermione smiled at her friend, and Ginny responded in kind just as the food arrived. They tucked in happily, the conversation turning to less fraught topics. Ginny was thinking about November for the wedding, since December was too close to Christmas, and October was too soon since she wanted time to prepare a bit more after she returned from her upcoming Harpies tour in mid-September. Ginny loved the course set in front of them and promptly ordered the caterer's services on the spot.

"Great, so that's flowers, cake, photographer, catering and venue sorted," Ginny said happily, "now I just need to finish writing up the invites - you should get yours next week, they're nearly finished - and sort out my dress, shoes, bridesmaids' dresses and a band."

Hermione smiled to see her friend so happy. She thought again about her miserably failed engagement, and the thought of planning a wedding to Ron only made her depressed. She was glad she had had the courage to break it off. It was far too early to think about anything like that with Draco, but she took the excited flutter in her heart as a good sign. She forced herself to calm down. She didn't even know how serious he was about her - she was a Muggleborn after all, and though he might be less prejudiced than he used to be, he still probably wouldn't want to have a Muggleborn wife or half-blood Malfoy children.

They returned to Hermione's office and Ginny hugged her friend, promised her she would tell Harry and the family everything and that she was still welcome at the Burrow anytime. Hermione privately thought it would be a while before she visited, given that Ron still lived there, but said aloud that she would pop in when she could and see everyone. Ginny left to get the floo back home, and Hermione settled once more at her desk behind the same mound of paperwork, her quill exactly where she'd left it. Great.

Nothing more eventful happened that day until around six o'clock. Hermione had just about decided she'd had enough for the day, and was getting ready to Apparate home when her phone started ringing. The only people who called her on it were Ginny, Harry and Draco - the only three magical folk she knew with phones - so she pulled it out to see who it could be. A number she didn't know flashed up on her screen. "Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Miss Hermione Granger?" a male voice asked at the end of the phone.

"Yes...speaking," she replied slowly, a seed of worry starting to form.

"Could you please confirm your address for me?"

"May I ask who is calling?" Hermione asked.

"This is Michael from Pyrox Building Management. I have been informed that there has been a fire at your registered address at 122 West Road. Could you please confirm it for me?"

Hermione's heart stopped. Her flat! "Uh, yes, yes," she found herself saying, "that's my apartment building. How serious is it?"

"Quite, I'm afraid, ma'am. It was a ground floor flat which caught fire and it spread upwards." Thank Merlin, she found herself thinking, it wasn't my flat. "The fire brigade are currently clearing the scene, so I would suggest you make your way home to claim any belongings. We are currently negotiating with the insurance company and will keep you informed on any progress."

"Thank you," she responded, and hung up. For a moment she was in a daze. Her flat had gone up in fire. Everything was in there...and Crookshanks! Oh, Merlin, Crookshanks had been lying on the kitchen counter when she had left this morning! Panic filling her chest, she ran down to the floo and called out the first place that came into her head from which she could Apparate home.

"Malfoy Manor!"

One sickening floo journey later, Hermione fell out of the Manor's main fireplace, and looked up to see a startled house-elf staring at her. "Master Draco!" it called.

"Yes, Mimsy?" Draco's voice could be heard echoing from a corridor to the right. "I'm very busy.."

"There's someone here!" Mimsy called out, not moving, eyes fixed on Hermione who was getting to her feet with a groan.

"What? I wasn't expecting-" Draco emerged into the room. "Hermione! Are you alright?"

"My flat," she managed to choke out through a mouthful of ash, "my flat caught fire. I was at work - had to floo out so I could Apparate..."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Draco grabbed her hand. "Mimsy, please tell Mistress Narcissa that I will be out for a while." The house-elf nodded enthusiastically, its ears flapping.

With that, and before Hermione could catch her breath, Draco had Apparated them both to the site of her building. She gasped in shock at the wreckage before her; almost the entire edifice had burned down to the ground. A ruined door frame and two flights of stairs stood intact, along with the burned-out underlying structure of the flats. Firemen milled about the ruins, picking out salvageable items and talking to people she recognised as her fellow residents.

She pushed her way through the gathering crowd and towards one of the firemen, leaving Draco to stand staring at the remains of what used to be her home. "Hermione Granger, I lived at one of these flats." She showed him her ID with the address on it. "What started the fire?"

"We can't be sure yet," he said sadly. "It was an electrical fire on the ground floor, which spread upwards. We don't know what the cause was, though. We salvaged what we could, though; is any of this yours?" he pointed over at a pile of scattered possessions, mostly metal and ceramic items, through which her neighbours were picking.

"My cat - my cat was inside," Hermione said urgently. "Did you save him?"

"Great big furry thing with claws like a tiger?" the fireman asked warily.

"Yes! Yes, that's him!" Hermione squealed. "Where is he?"

"Not sure where they took him," he said. "He wouldn't let any of us near him for long, it was a miracle we actually managed to get him outside. Wait, I think that gentleman over there has him." The fireman pointed behind her.

Hermione turned and saw Draco making his way towards her, grinning and carrying a purring Crookshanks. "Found him. He was making friends with the fire department."

Hermione took Crookshanks into her arms and held him closely. "I was so worried about you," she whispered into his fur. He smelled like smoke, and she could only imagine how scared he must have been, caught in the burning building. "We're going to get you cleaned up and you're having fish for dinner tonight."

The part-Kneazle must have understood her, because his purring intensified. Draco smiled to see Hermione looking so relieved, and joined in stroking Crookshanks' fluffy back.

"Did you want to go and look for some of your stuff?" Draco asked, gesturing at the pile.

"No," Hermione said. "As long as Crookshanks is safe, I don't care about anything else. It can be replaced." She nuzzled her head into her cat once more.

"Then let's get some food inside you," Draco said, putting his arm around her shoulder. He thanked the fireman, who watched them leave, still eyeing Crookshanks with some caution, and led her away from the wreckage. "What do you fancy?"

"I don't know," Hermione said numbly. Now that the panic of nearly losing Crookshanks had left her, she felt a bit fuzzy and unsure of herself. What was she going to do? Until the insurance money came through, she was homeless. "I need to go to Gringotts and take some money out; I have to book myself into a hotel, and buy some new clothes..."

"Shush," Draco said, "I'll not hear of you staying in a hotel, you're coming to stay at the Manor and that's final." She opened her mouth to protest. "No. No. I don't care what your argument is, it's stupid and you're coming to stay with me until you sort something out. OK?"

She nodded weakly, unable to find the strength to fight with him.

"Right. So let's go back there, and you can sit down and relax. I'll get Mimsy to make us some dinner, and tomorrow, you can take the day off work and Mother will take you shopping, and you can start sorting things out. For tonight, it's just you, and me, and Crookshanks - nice food and conversation, and we won't worry about anything else until later on, alright?" Draco said, kissing the top of her head.

As she allowed herself to be Side-Along Apparated to the Manor, she marvelled that he seemed to know exactly what she needed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks all for sticking with the story. Glad you're enjoying it; I have one more chapter currently written, ready to go after this and then I will have to put my nose back to the grindstone to get the rest finished.**

**Thanks to my reviewers/followers/favourites, I appreciate your continued support. (:**

After they got back to the Manor, Narcissa had rushed in to console her; obviously Mimsy had told her the details of Hermione's conversation with Draco. She reassured her that she would take her out shopping the next day to replace her whole lost wardrobe, and whatever else she wanted to buy. Hermione thanked her and with a comforting smile Narcissa left the pair to their own devices. Draco had sat her down on the couch, given her a glass of strong Firewhiskey and asked Mimsy to cook a lasagne; one of her favourites. Crookshanks, unfamiliar with the Manor, began to explore curiously, his squashed nose twitching as he sniffed out this new place. After a while, he deemed it acceptable and settled down in front of the fire, his huge brush of a tail curling round his body.

"I should owl work," Hermione said wearily. "They'll need to know I'm not coming in tomorrow."

"I'll do it," Draco called from the kitchen, where he was helping Mimsy. A second later, he appeared, brushing his hands on the side of his robes. "You sit, and relax." He promptly disappeared into the corridor he had come from earlier, which Hermione presumed led to his study.

When he re-emerged, she smiled wearily at him. "Thank you Draco. I really owe you one for this."

"No you don't," he replied. "You told me once that you helped me because you wanted to, and that I didn't owe you any favours. Well, now I'm telling you the same thing. If anything, this is just a drop in the ocean to start making up for all that shit I put you through when we were kids."

"Don't be stupid," Hermione yawned. "Life's far too short to worry about grudges we had when we were eleven. Anyway, you didn't put me through that much shit. You were just an annoying, snobbish brat," she finished with a twinkle in her eye.

"You mean I was charming and witty, if a little misguided," Draco retorted.

"No, I'd say that's what you are now," Hermione laughed, and he laughed along with her.

The lasagne was finished and promptly devoured, as they talked in front of the fire. As promised, Crookshanks was served a large plate of fresh cod, which he gobbled up immediately, licking his lips with a pleased look on his face.

"Could that cat look any more smug?" Draco asked.

"Be nice," Hermione chided, "he had a near-death experience today. He gets to look as smug as he likes, don't you, handsome?" She directed her last words to her cat, who had rolled over and curled up again, watching them with his back to the fire. He meowed sleepily as if to agree with her.

Hermione sat back, her third glass of Firewhiskey in her hand and the heat of the room getting to her head. "I think I need to go to bed soon," she said. "I've got a long day tomorrow." Then her face fell. "Oh, no, I just remembered," she whispered quietly.

"What?" Draco was instantly alert.

"My first edition copy of Hogwarts: a History. I usually keep it in my vault at Gringotts, but I had it out recently to re-read it. It must have got destroyed in the fire," Hermione said sadly. "I don't think I'll ever have another one. There must be only a few copies in the world; it cost me over a million Galleons from my war money at the auction."

"Well," Draco said, "if you want a book to read, by all means, come and peruse the library. We have quite an extensive collection; perhaps you'll find something to take your mind off it."

Hermione sighed, her mind still on her beautiful book, but agreed and allowed Draco to lead her out of the main living room and into a corridor. They walked for what seemed like ages, until they came face to face with a great wooden door, which Draco pushed open to reveal a beautiful, grand library. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling and the room went back for ages; Hermione couldn't even see the back wall. "Wow," was all she could say.

"Impressive, isn't it," Draco said, pleased at her gobsmacked expression. "I used to spend days at a time in here as a child, learning about everything and anything I could. There are quite a lot of good fiction books in here as well - and some Muggle ones, recent additions, might I add," he winked. "But what I really wanted to show you is over here."

He tugged her gently over to the left, where there was a section with books in cases. "These are the oldest books in the library - we keep them in special glass cases so they don't get dusty," he explained. "Most of them are very valuable."

Hermione browsed over the collection, her eyes as wide as saucers. "That's an original copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard!" she exclaimed. "And that's Merlin's own Folio!"

"That one's not an original," Draco hastily explained.

"Still!" Hermione said, shocked. "I can't believe you had access to all these - to all this! - your whole life! I'm so jealous!"

"Don't be," Draco said offhandedly, "you can use it whenever you'd like. I know you'll treat the books carefully."

"Oh, Draco, thank you!" Hermione said, throwing her arms round him. "This is the best present ever...after today...I'm honestly touched."

He embraced her tenderly. "You think of this place as your own while you live here, OK? The kitchen, the library, the studies, the house-elves, they're all at your disposal." He drew back, and Hermione tried not to let him see the tears of gratitude in her eyes. "But look," he said, pulling her gently over to the last case in the row. "What do we have here?"

Hermione looked down and her eyes were met with the familiar cover of her favourite volume. "You have an original copy too," she said softly.

"Of course we do," Draco said, "and now it's yours."

"Oh no," Hermione hurriedly said as he drew back the glass casing to reach in for the book. "I can't accept that. It's worth too much money. And it belongs here, in the library."

"Money? You're talking to a Malfoy. I'm richer than most of England put together," Draco answered with a touch of the aristocratic snobbery surfacing again in his voice. "Besides," he continued in a softer tone, "you're worth it. And I'd rather have this book read, and cared for and enjoyed than left in here, unlooked at and untouched."

"Still..." Hermione was unsure.

"Look," Draco said, "if you're that worried about the cost, then just think of it as a loan. This is a library, after all. Take it out, use it, read it, and bring it back whenever you like. Or don't bring it back at all, which is what I would personally prefer."

Hermione looked at the beautiful volume he placed in her hands, then back up to Draco's amused face. His eyebrow was quirked in the way only a Malfoy could manage, looking both exasperated and passionate at the same time. She couldn't help it. She nodded in acceptance, then leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. It was just a touch of skin on skin, nothing more, but the atmosphere between them instantly became charged with tingling sexual energy.

"Thank you," she said slowly, drawing back. The amused expression and the raised eyebrow were gone, and had been replaced with a storm in his grey gaze and a longing in his features.

"That," he said, "was more than enough payment for the book. Now you're definitely keeping it."

She smiled coyly at him, and allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her out of the library. "How do I get back here from my room?" she asked, looking over her shoulder wistfully at the stacks of volumes.

"That depends which room you want to sleep in," Draco said musingly. "We have about five which might suit you, and that are currently prepared for guests."

"I'll take whichever is closest to you," Hermione said instantly.

"Great, so you'll sleep in my bed," Draco responded, and she hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shame on you, Mr. Malfoy, trying to take advantage of me when I'm homeless."

"Well, if you're sure, you can sleep in the one next door then," he said with a grin, "it used to be my childhood bedroom until Father was locked up and I took over the master bedroom."

"Oh, I don't know if I want that one then," Hermione joked. "I might catch Snobby Ferret syndrome."

Draco elbowed her and she laughed. They walked up the great, grand staircase in the main hallway and round the balcony to the left, where Draco showed her down another corridor. The entire Manor had been redecorated since the War, Hermione noticed, with the old family portraits disappeared from the walls and the lingering sense of Dark magic in the air dissipated.

"I like it better now," she commented, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Well, after everything...it needed a change. Most of it is Mother's design," he gestured at the walls, and tapped his foot on the new wooden floorboards. "But I have to say; I like it better now too."

Finally, they made a turn at the end of the corridor and another hallway opened up before them.

"This is the West Wing," Draco announced. "This is where all the family bedrooms are."

He led her over to the leftmost door and opened it. "This is your room."

She stepped inside, amazed at the size of it. There was a huge four-poster bed at the back of the room, highlighted by a large open floor-to-ceiling window which looked out over the Manor's grounds. A desk and chair occupied the right-hand side, and on the left was another door which she opened to find a bathroom suite complete with both a corner bath and shower. She stood in wonderment, turning round and gaping at its proportions. Hints of Draco's school days were still there; textbooks stacked on a bookcase, Quidditch posters adorning the walls and his old school robes, hung neatly on a rail by the fitted wardrobe.

"This was your childhood room," she repeated. "Merlin only knows how big the master room is."

Draco chuckled at her obvious amazement. "One of the perks of being born a Malfoy. Not that there are many of them, anymore, so I try to enjoy the ones I have."

"Well, I for one am glad you were born a Malfoy," Hermione said. "If only because now I get to sleep on this gorgeous bed." She fell back into the sheets in ecstasy, feeling the silky cloth between her fingers.

"Glad to provide you with such a service," Draco said wryly. "I'll leave you to it then. If you need anything, Mimsy is at your disposal, and I'm just next door to the right if you change your mind about which room you want." He winked.

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione said seriously, sitting up and looking him in the face. "For everything. I mean it. Thanks."

"My pleasure," Draco said sincerely, and with a parting smile, bowed out of the room. Hermione fell back onto the sheets again, reveling in the silkiness and comfort, unwilling to ever get up again.

It occurred to her that she had no pyjamas with her. Suddenly, she started laughing; the full absurdity of her situation hit her, coupled with the shock from earlier. She was homeless, and she had no possessions to speak of apart from her purse, her cat and her wand; she was sleeping at Malfoy Manor for an indeterminate amount of time until she got back on her feet; and she had no pyjamas. Her laughter graduated into hysterics, and she rolled about on the bed, unable to stop.

Finally, the pangs of laughter died down, and she sat up, her sides hurting. She had no idea what she found so funny, other than the absolute ridiculousness of her situation. How had she even ended up here? She could barely keep track of all the emotional upheavals she had experienced recently, and she thanked Merlin that she was so mentally acute, or she might have gone round the twist. Of course, it was also the result of her work keeping her focused, and Ginny, Harry and Draco, without whom she was sure she'd have lost it by now.

Still, she thought as she snuggled into the huge bed, pulled the covers around her and opened the first page of Hogwarts: a History, it could only get better from here.

The next day, she awoke to the smell of food. The delicious scent made her sit up and rub her eyes, the light from the window pouring in behind her head and warming the entire room. She marvelled that Draco had lived in this room the whole time he had grown up; she had always imagined his room to be dark and low-ceilinged like the Slytherin dungeons. She couldn't have been more wrong.

"Morning," a voice said, and she looked up to see Draco grinning at her from the doorway. He wore a long, dark green silk dressing gown with 'DLM' inscribed on the pocket, which was tied low enough to expose his chest. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as her imagination ran wild with what might be underneath the rest of that gown, but she managed to evade his notice as she smiled back.

"I had Mimsy make us breakfast. I thought we could eat together," he explained, kicking open the door to reveal a beaming house-elf proudly carrying a tray of beautifully cooked food.

"Thank you, Mimsy," Hermione said kindly, slipping out of bed and walking over to relieve the elf of its burden.

"Mistress is welcome," Mimsy replied, and bowed, then scurried off down the hall.

"Mimsy seems happier than Dobby," Hermione noted. "I'm glad the Malfoy elves are in your hands now and not your father's."

"Agreed," Draco said with a flash of sadness in his eyes. "I used to hate watching them punish themselves. Since I've been master of the Manor, none of them has ever had a scratch, and they're all well cared for. Mimsy is my elf, and my mother's is called Dinky. We've also got a few cleaning elves, but they don't make much of an appearance during the day."

Hermione was fascinated by Draco's story, and glad that at least one of the things she had fought for when she was young had started to actually happen. Even if they still refused pay and clothes, at least they were happy, and well looked after.

"So where are we going to eat this?" she asked, hefting the tray.

"I thought we could have it on the balcony," Draco answered, and led her back towards her bed. She followed him curiously, and suddenly noticed that what she had taken for a floor-to-ceiling window was actually a large glass door, which opened onto a veranda. There was an iron table and two chairs next to the stone rail, and a beautiful view of the expansive gardens that accompanied Malfoy Manor.

"Wow," she said, stepping out into the warm August morning. "I didn't even know this was here."

"You think the young Draco Malfoy could have survived without such a luxury?" Draco said in mock astonishment. "His Father would never have heard the end of it."

Hermione giggled and sat down at the table, putting the tray down. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation but she didn't know where to start; there were eggs, bacon, toast, sausages, beans, waffles, scones, muffins and rolls, along with a large pitcher of orange juice and a pot of tea.

"This must have taken Mimsy ages," Hermoine said, surveying the food before her.

"Remember elves are magical," Draco reminded her. "He didn't make it all by hand."

Still not fully convinced, Hermione took a plate and began to pile some food onto it. Draco sat opposite her and did the same; she noticed that he took a lot of bacon, and smirked.

"What?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"You haven't changed since Hogwarts," she laughed, "you always used to take all the bacon at the Slytherin table too."

"Not ALL of it," he defended, piling more strips onto his plate. "Besides, what's wrong with bacon?"

"Nothing. But there's something wrong with being a greedy git," Hermione said, grinning as she took one of the pieces of bacon from his plate and put it on hers. He nudged her in retaliation and nearly made her fall off the chair; she grabbed hold of the edge of the table just in time and righted herself. "If you were anyone else, I'd have you for that," he muttered.

"Good job I'm me, then," Hermione grinned. She was taking liberties, she knew, but it was difficult not to feel completely comfortable with Draco around, and laugh and play like she would do with Harry or Ginny, and she had an inkling he felt the same way. He eyed her over his plate and cupped it defensively, exactly the way she used to do when she took exams, and she laughed. "Baby."

They finished breakfast and relaxed on the veranda in the warm sun. "Don't you have work?" Hermione asked him.

"I'm working from home at the moment, actually," he replied, his eyes shut as he soaked up the heat, his body slumped back into the chair in total chilled-out mode.

"Yes, I can see you're working very hard," she teased, and he opened one eye and looked at her.

"I'm an inventor. My brain never stops working. I'm dreaming up new potions, I'll have you know," he said, closing his eye again and settling back into his state of repose.

"You never did tell me what your big new potion was," Hermione suddenly remembered. "You were going to talk about it at Harry's party, before...well, everything."

"Oh yes, I forgot you didn't know yet," Draco said, sitting up and taking on an aura of excitement. "Well, I finished the drafting stage and the safety committee approved it. I handed it up to marketing and they were so intrigued they had the manufacturing department get testing it right away; and it works. They'll be rolling it out in stores worldwide next month. It's going to change everything, Hermione - I might be famous for it."

"What does it DO?" Hermione asked eagerly, pleased for his success.

"It's a genetic enhancement potion," Draco said. Her face fell slightly. "Don't worry - I don't mean one of those cheap, disgusting ones that make witches look prettier. No. Hermione, this potion attaches itself to a suppressed magical gene and unlocks its power."

"So..." Hermione was working it out in her head. She thought she knew what he meant, and if he did, it would be the biggest major breakthrough of the century.

"Squibs can be cured," Draco announced proudly. "Anyone born to a magical family without magic will have the gene, and this potion will enable it. No more Squibs. Children with weak magical signatures can be strengthened enough to be sent to school. Hundreds - maybe thousands - more wizards and witches, Hermione, previously not magical enough to be registered, who can be helped, and schooled, and brought into our world."

Hermione couldn't believe it. The repercussions of this potion would be felt all over the Wizarding World. This would go down in history.

"I can't believe you've done it," she whispered. "People have been trying to cure Squibs for centuries. Think about what this will mean to people - people like Filch - who will finally feel like they belong in the world they were born to. How did you do it?"

"Meticulous research and a lot of trial and error," Draco said, "but eventually, finally, I made it work. This is going to make my company huge. Maybe even bigger than Malfoy Enterprises used to be, before it all went into administration."

"What's happening to your father's company?" Hermione suddenly interjected. It was something she had been wondering about.

"They're currently processing all the bureaucracy," Draco replied, looking agitated. "It's still in Lucius's name, so I can't do anything with it yet. But since he hasn't died, legislation is tricky concerning passing the ownership on without consent. He's in Azkaban, so no legal consent can be given. It's all tied up in red tape. But they're getting through it slowly, and hopefully I should be able to take over by the end of the year and bring Malfoy Enterprises back up to scratch."

"This is so wonderful," Hermione said, admiration brimming into her voice. "I knew you were a spectacular Potions student, despite my jokes about Snape giving you marks - you were even better than me - but Merlin, Draco! You're going to go down in history for this!"

"It's rather exciting, isn't it?" Draco allowed a smug smile to cross his face. "Don't say anything yet, though. They're going to have an announcement and launch party in early September, and it'll all come out to the media then. For now, it's still under wraps. Not even Mother knows."

"Thank you for telling me," she said quietly.

"Of course," Draco looked puzzled at the thought. "I tell you about all my potions."

She was honoured that he didn't even think twice about trusting her with such a secret, and that she had been the only one he had shared it with. He hadn't even told Narcissa yet. She reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back.

"I can't wait to call you mine," he said quietly.

"Me neither," she replied. "But we can't; not yet. Give everything time to settle, and I promise, once we're together the wait will have been worth it."

"Nothing's worth being away from you," he replied, startling her with his sincerity, and she leaned across the table to kiss him lightly, the simple connection of their lips never failing to electrify her. He moved in to her, and the kiss deepened, sexual tension sparking between them. He caressed her face as she ran her fingers in his hair, until with a pained groan he broke away from her.

"Nope," he said, "no, I just got rid of my morning wood, you're not going to bring it back unless you're going to help me deal with it."

She burst into laughter, and in spite of himself he grinned too. "Soon enough, I promise," she said.

"You better mean it," he whispered, trying his best to sound low and dangerous. "You can't promise something like that to a Malfoy man unless you plan to follow through."

"Believe me," Hermione said in a seductive voice, leaning closer to him again, "I intend to."

"You little vixen," he growled, and grabbed her to kiss her again. Before they could get too carried away, though, someone cleared their throat behind them.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Narcissa asked, looking from one to the other with exactly the same amused expression and quirked eyebrow as her son. Hermione flamed red with embarrassment, but Draco simply looked back at his mother as if nothing were amiss.

"No, Mother, not at all," Draco said smoothly. "We were just finishing, actually."

"I see. Well, I thought I'd bring Hermione some clothes, since she doesn't have any, and ask her if she was ready to go shopping."

"Yes, Narcissa, thank you, it's very kind of you to bring me some clothes," Hermione said, still avoiding eye contact. "I'll just hop in the shower and we can be on our way."

"Lovely, dear. Draco, don't you have some work to be getting on with?" Narcissa asked pointedly.

"Yes," Draco said, then shifted uncomfortably. "Just - give me a minute to...er...enjoy the sun."

Hermione giggled again, then got up and went inside to search out the clothes Narcissa had brought her. Narcissa simply looked exasperatedly at her son, then followed suit and left him to his devices on the balcony. "I'll be waiting for you in the main entrance hall," Narcissa said kindly. "I hope you like what I brought you - they were mine when I was your age, but I know fashions have changed and they might not be to your taste. Don't feel embarrassed if you don't like them, just say so."

"No, they're beautiful," Hermione said, and she meant it. Narcissa had brought her a flowing top and black skirt, not what she would usually have picked, but the silk fabrics were woven together so intricately that the material felt like water in her hands. "This is lovely, Narcissa, thank you. I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Of course, dear. Draco!"

"Yes, coming Mother," a male voice muttered, and he appeared from the veranda, pulling the door shut behind him, his dressing gown looking decidedly more dishevelled than earlier. "I'll be at the Manor all day working, if either of you ladies need me just send me an owl. Right, I need to find some clothes."

With as much dignity as he could muster, he drew himself up to his full height and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Hermione and Narcissa exchanged a look. "Men," Narcissa said in an exasperated tone, and Hermione nodded in agreement, meeting her eye for the first time that morning. The Malfoy matriarch smiled at her reassuringly, before leaving Hermione to her shower.


End file.
